


Timekeeper

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Internal Monologuing, POV Third Person, Sans-centric, Selectively Mute Frisk, don't fear the length, mostly canon compliant, partial prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:24:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 70,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6063759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sans had never been one for hope. He had lived his entire life surrounded by the hope of breaking the barrier and seeing the surface, but he had never experienced this hope. Now, of course, he could hope in the verb sense - it was quite often that he hoped someone would or wouldn’t do something - but that’s not really hope, is it? Such a feeling is more of a desire or a want, and this was the feeling Sans was used to. To him, hope was something you did, not something you had. He had never understood hope as an intangible thing - as some abstract concept that you hold onto just because you can. So, one could imagine his surprise when, as he stood in the shadowed corridor, he felt hopeless."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Began Anew

“...Sans?”

What was it?

“Sans are you okay?”  
  
Why did he remember?

“Helloo? Sa-ans?”

Why didn’t he remember?

“Earth to Sans!”

Who was it?

“SANS.”

His brother’s voice rang through the air, nasal and loud. Recently, Sans, thanks to an offhand comment from Frisk, had begun to wonder how a skeleton like his brother could possibly have a _nasal_ voice, but he did his best to ignore it. He craned his neck to see over the tall crowds of people, but the swath of brown fabric was lost.

“SANS WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?”

The involuntary response of the body to look at the source of a noise overcame him, and he flinched out of his trance, turning to face Papyrus. “Sorry, bro. Guess I  _boned_ out.”

“Yowch, Sans, even I know that was bad.” He turned his attention briefly from his brother’s low groaning to where Undyne stood, her arm wrapped around the much shorter Alphys.

“What can I say, Undyne? I guess I’m not naturally _humerus_ after all.”  
  
“SANS, PLEASE, CAN WE JUST GO ALREADY? THE TINY SIDEWALK PERSON HAS APPEARED AND LEFT THREE TIMES SINCE YOU STOPPED.”

“Sure, Paps. Lead the way.”

“YOU KNOW THE WAY, YOU LAZY-BONES. WE ARE ONLY GOING TO GRILLBY’S,” the skeleton announced, seeming slightly disgruntled at the prospect. If he had a nose, he’d probably be wrinkling it, Sans mused. His musing preceded a shudder as he tried to picture Papyrus with a nose. No matter how many times Frisk said it, he’d never get used to the idea that humans had skeletons _inside them._

“You’ll just have to remind me, Pap. I guess a _bonehead_ like me forgets.”

With a huff, Papyrus stalked off across the street, trailed by Undyne and Alphys. Looking back, Sans started out, too, before Frisk’s hand snaked out and snatched him back by the sleeve of his jacket. The kid was stronger than he gave them credit for. He tried not to dwell on the things they had done with that strength, once upon a timeline.

As he stumbled back, a car whizzed past, nearly rolling its fat tires over his sneakers. A _t least it wasn’t my slippers,_ he thought. Despite his agreement to wear sneakers in public, Sans still clung to those slippers like a lifeline, refusing to mar them, lest he be unable to find a replacement. The slippers had come to be in his possession… he frowned (well, sort of; ‘frown’ was a relative term in regards to his facial features). He’d gotten the slippers… sometime before he could remember. It was impressive they’d held up this long. He suspected magical interference on Papyrus’ part, but cherished them nonetheless, eternally fascinated at the coincidence of a human with just the right size feet throwing their slippers away.

A barely audible gasp came from behind him as an all-too-audible yell came from in front. “Go back to where you came, freaks!”

Sans rolled his pinprick pupils and let out a sigh as Toriel hurried up to him and Frisk, checking him for injuries. “I’m fine, Tori,” he said, brushing her hand off his arm. Turning to Frisk, he added, “Thanks, kid; really saved my skin there.”

Frisk narrowed their eyes, seemingly trying to figure out if that had been a pun, while Toriel exclaimed indignantly, “After six years, you’d think people would learn to be a little more tolerant.”

“C’mon, Tori, you’ve read human history books; they can’t even be tolerant of each other.”

“I know, Sans, but a woman can dream. Let’s hurry; the others will be getting worried. I do hope they didn’t see that scene.”

Everyone standing there knew that ‘they’ meant Papyrus. Undyne and Alphys were accustomed to the prejudice, having experienced more than their fair share of it, thanks to a multitude of factors. One: bigoted humans did not like monsters. Two: bigoted humans did not like same-sex couples. Conclusion: bigoted humans _hated_ lesbian monsters. Side note: humans are also scared of someone who can suplex them. Undyne picked up on that quickly...ish.

But Papyrus? Papyrus had managed to, as far as anyone could tell, live a sheltered life on the surface. Sure, the humans shouted abuse at him nearly as much as they did anyone else, but he was either too innocent to realize or too busy being the bigger person to care. He was an expert at taking insults in stride, even going so far as to turn them into compliments. But to insult his brother? He would never have that. He thought so highly of Sans, was so proud of his brother and his many jobs, even if he hardly worked any of them, that he could hardly understand how anyone could think differently. This was the way in which they were most similar, for Sans, of course, felt the same way of Papyrus. How could anyone find it in their heart to intentionally hurt the goofball? 

Unconsciously, he gazed at Frisk as he thought this, until realizing his actions and looking away. He didn’t need to think about that anymore. It had been six years; the kid was keeping their promise well. So well, in fact, that he may have to quit calling them ‘kid’ soon.

The group of monsters ahead hadn’t seemed to notice the commotion, with the exception of Undyne, perhaps, as she still kept herself alert and on her toes, ready for battle. She missed it, Sans noticed at some point in their third year on the surface. She missed the magical rush of combat, the thick of the battlefield, and her position as a hero. He didn’t think ill of her for this - quite the contrary, in fact.

They all missed the Underground in one way or another. For some it had been simpler down there, a more relaxed life. For others, it had been exciting and unpredictable. Others, it seemed, missed simply the familiarity of the low ceilings and walls thick with mossy crystals, the sense of belonging and safety in a crowd. He envied these people. They could remember their old home with nostalgia by way of reminiscence, not fear in the form of suffocating nightmares. They could rejoice and return in search of memories and childhoods without their vision betraying them to blankets of dust over every conceivable surface.

Grillby’s was one of the few places Sans found happiness these days, though the list was slowly growing with each season that crawled by. The patrons remained largely the same as the ones of the establishment in the Underground, and so greeted Sans with cheerful, albeit somewhat drunk, “hello”s. The group took their seats in a large corner booth, and before joining them, Sans glanced longingly at the empty barstools.

He didn’t hate his memories of the Underground at all. In fact, if one were speaking strictly of his life before Frisk came along, he would say he preferred it to this life on the surface. Evenings spent at Grillby’s, chattering and playing poker with the Canine Unit of the Royal Guard had preceded the long drunk nights he spent slumped over the counter until the bartender cut him off, sending him home or, on the particularly nasty nights, calling Papyrus to come get him. Papyrus used to like Grillby’s back in that distant original timeline, and would accompany Sans on his endeavors to have a good time. It was even where he discovered his dream of being in the royal guard (because those dogs were SO COOL, SANS. I WOULD LOVE TO BE THAT COOL AND GREAT).

But his love for the restaurant had faded over time, diminishing bit by bit with every drunken stumble into their house, every time he had to carry his brother home because he was too out of it to walk, and every cold shoulder turned to him when he asked what was wrong. It wasn’t that bad, this time around. For what Papyrus could remember, Sans only had a few nights like that. He hadn’t gotten to the point of passing out on the bar and sobbing for his brother, only to grow distant when his cries were answered. He hadn’t pushed Papyrus away in this timeline, and maybe that’s what kept him alive.

Sure, he could give the kid credit for not murdering anyone, but even with an ancient demon child trying to take control, that was a weird accomplishment to celebrate. He wondered, briefly, if, had he kept Papyrus close and not pushed him away, his brother would have lived in more of the neutral timelines - if the very thing he had nightmares about was his own fault. He dismissed the notion quickly, but not before it could plant a seed in the very back of his mind. There were lots of seeds planted there, brewing ideas and stirring up guilt, but the back of the mind is the back for a reason, and they were easily ignored in his waking hours.

The nights were different. When they had first reached the surface, Sans had grown tired quickly as hours spent in the dark, too terrified of going to sleep and waking up back in Snowdin, caught up to him. Finally, he had accepted the kid’s promise. He had conceded to trust them not to reset again. He had conceded to sleep again. But the things one ignores in the day are free to roam at night, and so the night terrors began. They weren’t every night, but they were enough of them.

Sitting in the restaurant, gazing at the bar, he recalled the first time he had held a real conversation with Grillby: the first time he asked about the war. It had been only his fourth time in the establishment, his third week in Snowdin, but he, young and assertive, had marched right up to the bar just before closing time and plopped down on a seat, looking the fire elemental in the place he assumed his eyes to be (there were glasses there, so there must be eyes, right?).

* * *

_“You were in the war, right?”_

_“Mmhmm,” the bartender had responded, only pausing for a split second before resuming his cleaning of the counters._

_“Tell me about it. What was it like?”_

_“Sans - it is ‘Sans”, right? That’s hardly a topic to dwell on, especially for kids.”_

_Sans’ face had screwed up in impatience. “I’m not a kid! Papyrus is a kid. and c’mon, just tell me.”_

_“Why are you so interested?”_

Presently, he couldn’t recall why he had been so insistent on knowing about it, if he ever had known. 

_“I dunno. Just am.”_

_“Why don’t you go to the Library? There’s books about it.”_

_“But they just talk about the barrier,” he had whined. “I want to know about the humans. What were they like?”_

_This had piqued the other monster’s interest. “Why?”_

_“I. Don’t. Know. Can’t a guy just want some knowledge? Call it curiosity.”_

_Grillby had practically dragged Sans by the arm out into the snow after that. It wasn’t in a mean or harmful way, but rather, Sans reflected, the man had simply been tired and wanted to go home… or to sleep… was the restaurant his home? Strange how you could know a person for so long and not know such a simple thing about them._

_Grillby had promised Sans that he wouldn’t utter another word about the war until he could tell him why he wanted to know so badly, and he had held fast to that promise. Sans scoured his mind for the answer, but came up with nothing for weeks._

_Finally, exasperated and petulant, he had placed himself in front of the monster again and said, “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know why it’s so important that I know this, but it is. There’s just this nagging feeling, like a memory or something, that’s tellin’ me I’ve got to know. I’m going crazy here, Grillbz. Throw me a bone, why don’t you?”_

_This, for whatever reason, had satisfied Grillby, and he began to spill all the knowledge he had on the subject. “It happened when I was very young, so excuse any foggy memories. I lived on the surface for exactly one day short of 5 years when war broke out. My parents tried to coexist with the neighboring human villages, but the humans were violent and would not listen to reason. They came to our village with buckets of water, splashing every elemental and surface they could find with it. Twelve died the first night._

_“My parents and I fled to the monster city at the base of Mount Ebott, where we met King Asgore, who offered us safety amongst the few who still lived. We never stood a chance. In the entire village, there were perhaps three hundred monsters, and the humans came in waves of thousands.”_

_“You sound like a history book. I already know this stuff. Did you ever meet a human? Did you ever talk to one?”_

_“It’s rude to interrupt, Sans. But, no, I suppose I never really spoke with one. Even for the 5 years on the surface, my parents kept me fairly isolated from the humans. Our village only ever did trade with them; we weren’t a coexisting village like others. The only time I encountered a human was the day me and five other children in the monster base chose to sneak out. I can’t entirely recall why we did so, but I do recall the excuse of ‘testing security’ being used when we were caught. We made it about a mile outside the walls of the base when we came across another group of kids - human kids. Neither group was particularly enthusiastic about seeing the other. The humans had likely been getting the ‘Death to Monsters’ mantra drilled into their heads, and we, of course, had seen what humans were willing to do to us. In a moment of mutual agreement, each group turned tail and ran.”_

_“So you don’t know what humans are like? You don’t know what it’s like to talk to one?”_

_“No, Sans, I don’t. What I also don’t is see why you need to know this. Planning on talking to a human soon?” the monster had asked, laughter licking the edges of his words._

_“I don’t know, Grillbz. It’s just this feeling, like a memory or a dream or somethin’. It’s like I have talked to a human… like I’m supposed to know what it’s like, but I’ve forgotten.”_

_The fire monster had merely chuckled at the prospect. “If you’d talked to a human, I’m sure you wouldn’t forget so easily. After all, you’d have shared such an occurrence with Papyrus, wouldn’t you? Why not ask him?”_

_With a sigh, Sans had slid from the stool, resigning himself to defeat and readying himself for the short walk home. “Don’t you think i’ve tried?”_

* * *

In hindsight, it might have been that one sentence, heavy with defeat and depression, that sparked the protectiveness Grillby had always shown for Sans. It carried over between timelines, too. He hadn’t ever seemed angry with Sans for drowning in self-pity until he was blackout drunk… just sad. He never kicked him to the street either; he always made sure Sans was going to make it home. Despite becoming an adult shortly after meeting him, Sans always thought of Grillby as the father who raised him.

Inwardly, he was warm with nostalgia, but outwardly he shivered with the guilt that tinged the edges of his happiness. “SANS, HOW ARE YOU COLD?” Papyrus asked, staring his brother down across the table, “IT’S LIKE 200 DEGREES IN HERE.”

“Aw c’mon, Paps, what did I tell you about exaggerating?”

“IT WAS NOT AN EXAGGERATION, BUT AN OBSERVATION. GRILLBY’S IS ALWAYS SWELTERING; HOW DO YOU STAND IT?”

“Oh, I do. I just don’t feel it _in my bones_.”

A disgruntled noise of exasperation from Papyrus was covered by another remark from Undyne. “Geez, Sans, you really _are_ off your game today. These puns are the worst you’ve told in a long time!”

“Guess i’m just not feeling punny today,” he shrugged. Ignoring the slightly concerned looks that crossed the faces of his friends, he retreated back into thought.

Was he a terrible person for using Grillby that way? Was it wrong for him to have a stable father figure when all Papyrus got was an apathetic alcoholic? Could anyone really blame him, though? Neither skeleton could remember how they ended up on their own; their pasts were as much a mystery to them as they were to anyone else. But going to sleep one night as a kid and waking up the next morning, realizing that the only person to care for your little brother is you? It takes a toll on the mind, so could he really be blamed for falling apart? Despite the stress he always thought of it causing, he presumed that having Papyrus around made him better off, in the long run. After all, if not for him, Sans might not have had the motivation to do _anything_. Waking up and realizing you’re completely alone has to be worse than waking up to responsibility, right?

A small tug on his sleeve jolted him back to reality, and he looked to find Frisk waiting for the indication that he was watching. After only the slightest movement of his head, they began signing rapidly.

**Sans, what’s wrong?**

“Nothin’, kiddo. Just thinking.”

**You’re always thinking these days. They’re getting worried about you.**

“Tell ‘em not to be, then.” It was cold, and Sans knew it, but he just didn’t feel like keeping up appearances, even for Frisk. He wasn’t sure why he even tried to; the kid knew every detail of the memories that had plagued him for so long - hell, they caused most of them - but it just seemed wrong to dump your problems on someone who had been through just as much. Sure, he had to live with the memories, but they had to live with the guilt. He watched them from time to time, in the rare moments when they weren’t watching him, and had seen it. The way they shied away from confrontation, especially with Papyrus and Undyne; the way they hid their sorrow in hugs from Toriel; it was obvious that the kid had no easier of a life than he did, and had no more experience in hiding it.

**Sans, please? Are you upset about the things the humans said?**

“Kid, if I got upset every time some jerk humans yelled at us, I’d never be happy at all.”

**… are you happy, Sans?**

It was a valid question, but not one he had ever expected to hear. He knew the others were concerned; it seemed like every ten minutes someone was asking if he was okay. But no one ever asked if he was happy, so it wasn't like he had reason to think about it. After all, a person doesn’t have to be happy to be okay. He started to respond, but all that came out was a quiet, choked noise. Coughing and reaching for his glass of water to cover it, he averted his eyes from Frisk’s demanding gaze. He could hear the others talking distantly in the background, laughing and chattering on. He could feel their presence - they were all alive and well and _here with him._ He was _here_ and he was more than _okay._

He turned back to Frisk after what felt like an eternity and looped his arm around their shoulder, squeezing them in a half-hug. “Yeah, kiddo. I’m happy.”

Their time at the diner was, as usual, uneventful. For them, at least. Grillby seemed to be having a hell of a time with a group of humans whose small children had accompanied them, and at one point, after the third glass of water was spilled, Sans swore he saw a slender finger made of flames flash toward the group. Not that Grillby would ever admit to such a _vulgar_ gesture; he was a _gentleman_ , after all, and he had a reputation to uphold. Frisk and their little family occupied the booth for far longer than it took to order and eat their food, but Sans knew Grillby wouldn’t mind. Likely, he thought, Grillby would rather his restaurant be full of monsters who had finished eating hours ago than humans in a rush. Humans were always in a rush - why didn’t they ever just relax and enjoy the sky or fresh air or stars?

Because, of course, they had grown used to them, and took them for granted just as much as monsters took magic for granted. They were things that were unquestionably a part of their world, a constant that they assumed they would always have. And Sans, for the first time, believed for a second that he would always have them as well.

As they left the diner, Sans throwing back a “put it on my tab” and Toriel fishing in her purse for money to actually pay the man, they took no notice of the large group of humans. This part of town was still primarily monster-inhabited, and, unfortunately, that fact made it quite the tourist town for humans. Humans were constantly visiting and exploring the monster towns, even if none would ever admit it. When Toriel rejoined the group, Sans mused that if Frisk kept this up, he might actually have to pay his tab this time around. He wasn’t sure how much that would be, but there was a reason he didn’t think about it.

“Ngah!”

The cry rang through the air and the group collectively stiffened, turning to face the commotion. Undyne and Alphys were surrounded by a gang of, frankly, ordinary-looking people. There were guys who looked like part of a biker gang, and guys who looked like they’d be heading back to the office from a lunch break. There were girls who looked demure and conserved and girls who would have much better luck downtown than in a dive like this. But something was off about them; no matter how you looked at it, there was a malice in their eyes, and guys reached for their pockets as girls reached for their purses.

In a flurry of motion, weapons were summoned, both magically and figuratively. Undyne’s  spears glinted in the sunlight in her protective stance over Alphys, and pocket-knives, pepper spray, and one or two guns emerged from the folds of fabric. Toriel was already punching in numbers frantically on her phone, Frisk looked about ready to explode, and Papyrus stood awkwardly, his hand half-raised, unsure of whether he would need to summon attacks or not. Sans stood motionless. Upon seeing the frantic darting of her eyes, Sans realized Undyne had a worse disadvantage than he had thought. She had magic, but if she dared use it, if she dared send a spear through anyone, the humans weren’t going to be the ones in trouble when the police arrived. Her spears dissolved, leaving her empty handed against a mob of angry, armed people. Her posture sagged, if only for a moment, as though the weight of her situation was a tangible one. Sans followed her frozen gaze to a gun in the hand of a boy who could be no older than Frisk. She was oblivious to the crowd around her, he realized as her stare did not waver. She made no movement, save for a small twitch in the left side of her face, and he remembered.

* * *

_“Shit!” She had yowled, staggering back with her hands to her face. Sans had been ready to step in, but there was no need. Instead, he hurried to her side, helping her up as the human fell to the ground. Though their physical forms made ATK and DEF static, only remotely attuned to their soul, their physical forms were also very fragile. And so, with a sharp blow from the old turtle, the human crumpled to the floor._

_“Th-thanks, Gerson,” Undyne had stammered, swaying on her feet. Sans could tell he really wasn’t much help in his current position, thanks to their height difference, but if he hadn’t been there, he figured she would have mirrored the human’s last move._

_“C'mere, girl,” he had said, sliding under her other arm and helping her back to his house behind the shop. Sans couldn’t see her face; hair loose from her ponytail had fallen over it, obscuring his view and hers. When they had finally set her down in a chair, her head had flopped back, and he had sucked a breath through his teeth. The place where her left eye should have been was a gaping hole, and her shivering had told him it felt as painful as it looked. “Yikes, kiddo. This is gonna hurt for a while.”_

_“What d’ya mean, punk?” Undyne had snapped. Sans had heard her call pretty much anyone and anything ‘punk’ before, but never her former captain. There were only two monsters in the Underground she held that respect for, and to break that respect meant it must be_ really _painful._

_Gerson hadn’t seemed to mind.  “Let me show you. Eat this ‘ere and you’ll see.” He had handed her a Crab Apple, which she gobbled down in two bites._

_“Why ain’t it working? My HP’s full but I still can’t see out of that eye!”_

_“Somehow, that kid got magic into that gun.” A frown had crossed Gerson’s face as he spoke. “Your eye isn’t gonna regenerate, kid; body magic’s fried.”_

* * *

To her credit, she remained pretty much the same after the incident, wearing her eyepatch like a medal of honor, even after the area had long since scarred over. But she was more somber, somehow, as though realizing what humans were capable of had dulled her fighting spirit instead of igniting it. Until Frisk came along, Sans had never known how she would react to seeing a human again. Half of him had expected her to slaughter the kid on sight, and the other half had expected her to freeze in fear. It had taken him a long time to understand why she had given them a shield and taught them how to use it before battling them; why she refused to make the battle unfair.

Now, there was no imbalance of power in her favor. She had no gap to close with kindness. There was only anger.

And very real weapons.

Weapons that fired and sprayed and slashed as chaos erupted. For a moment, Sans thought his vision was going blurry, but it was only the movement of the mob, weaving left and right and around itself, each member vying for their chance at the monsters. A few fell backward, bruises already blooming across their faces in a shape akin to Undyne’s fist. But there were too many.

Sans never liked to use his magic on others. They weren’t accustomed to the sensation like he was, and he couldn’t go as far, but he supposed he had no choice. His first instinct - to simply lift the mob off the ground - was a flawed plan in itself. There was no way he could focus on that many individual souls at once, and if he used magic directly on a human their predicament would only get worse. So, instead, he blinked out of existence, briefly, reappearing between the two huddling monsters. Taking both by the hand, he shouted to hold still, and disappeared again, taking them with.

They materialized just past Toriel and Frisk, who stood motionless behind a parked car. Toppling to the ground, Sans knew something wasn’t right. He was exhausted, sure, but not nearly as exhausted as he should have been from a jump like that. Before he even had the chance to look around, another cry answered his question.

“Alphys!”

If he had blood, it would have run cold. Of the two, he would have much preferred to leave Undyne behind. Not out of spite or bitterness or any such thing - he liked the fish monster, and had grown to be one of her best friends, even if it wasn’t the most expressive of friendships. No, he would have left her because she could fend for herself. Though, seeing things from the inside of the mob had left him thinking that no matter who was left behind, defending oneself would be no easy task. He prepared to go back, but only got to one foot before staggering back. Undyne made no move to help him up; rather, she took him by the shoulders, jostling him so hard he was briefly worried for his 1 HP. She was yelling at him, he realized. Tears leaked from her one good eye, and, finally, her voice reached him.

“Go back! Go get her! Sans, please, you have to!”

He had never heard her so desperate, so angry. He tried again to get up, succeeding only for a moment before staggering back again, catching himself on the hood of the car. He looked up, into Undyne’s pleading face, and broke her heart.

“I can’t,” he rasped. “I can’t just do it over and over. You were both supposed to come with; it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Fueled with a fire so intense Sans could not see the source, Undyne strode back to the mob, plucking humans up by the backs of their shirts and tossing them aside. Men and women lay on the sidewalk, cradling bruised or broken limbs and yelling for the rest to turn and attack her instead. The group did not. Not at first, anyway. They continued to converge on the center, attacking mercilessly.

Until they all stopped. It was almost simultaneous, the change rippling from the center outward. Then they all turned away, toward Undyne and the rest of the monsters, and the mob split, rushing toward them. In the place where they had been previously, nothing but a pile of dust sat, eroding with the wind.

Sans stopped cold. He hadn’t the sense of Toriel and Frisk to run, nor the bravery of Papyrus, who lunged forward to pull the frozen Undyne back. In the face of the oncoming stampede, everything went silent. He was sure, from the situation, that someone must be calling his name, but he could not respond. He felt his magic stirring within him, and every ounce of energy he had was concentrated toward keeping the blasters away. It wasn’t right to use them. Not here. Not now.

A sharp tug from Frisk saved his life for the second time that day, yanking him into action. He crouched down in a bush with them and asked, desperation lacing his voice, “When was the last time you saved?”

They avoided his gaze.

“Kid, please.”

 **Two weeks ago, after the fireworks show.** **I’m sorry, Sans! I’m so sorry! I just kept forgetting and it got away from-**

“Do it.”

**Sans?**

“It’s further than I’d like, but we don’t have a choice.”

**I thought you said we couldn’t abuse the power for the life of one. We have to use it when it’s important enough-**

“Kid, don’t you think this counts as important? Just do it.” He felt his eyes grow dark. It was a cheap tactic, but he knew it scared the kid enough to get them to do just about anything. In an instant, light flooded their hiding spot and he felt himself jerked backward. Stumbling out of the bush, he came face to face with three humans looking all too happy.

“Frisk! Now!”

He craned his neck to see the kid restrained by two of the attackers as well. _Would they really kill their own?_ Despite everything they’d been through, Sans knew that humans were far crueller creatures than monsters, so he could hardly blame Frisk for the fear that seemed to have frozen them.

“C’mon, Frisk! We’re counting on you!”

Another cheap tactic. If the humans thought Frisk would somehow save the monsters, maybe they’d be more inclined to kill them. And while he really didn’t want to see the kid get hurt, it would force them to jump back to the save point; that’s what they needed, right? Did it matter how that task was accomplished?

He heard the all-too-familiar sound of magic turning to dust, but couldn’t bring himself to look and see who it was. Did it matter, at this point? They’d all be back two weeks ago in a matter of minutes, anyway. He stopped fighting his restraints and closed his eyesockets, deciding that whatever happened would happen, and it wouldn’t matter either way. Surprisingly, the humans did not kill him straight away. They didn’t even touch him. He opened his eyes to the sight of everything frozen in time. _The reload. Took you long enough, kid._ He closed his eyes again as the world faded to black, ready to leave the failed timeline behind.

Immediately, he knew this wasn’t right. The room was too small, the shadows cast on the walls familiar only in distant memories. He bolted out of bed and out of the room, stopping in his tracks upon seeing the scene in front of him.

Papyrus was making spaghetti, and there was a thick blanket of snow on the ground outside.

* * *

_The cracked brown surface split apart, like an earthquake disrupting a baked desert floor. The two halves clung desperately to each other, trying to hold together what must not be broken._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far! This is my first Undertale fic, so I'm still getting used to the characters and their voices, but I hope you've enjoyed it so far.  
> This fic will be updated - I've promised myself that I won't leave it unfinished, so don't worry about that - but the next few updates may take longer as I adjust to the story and really get into the groove. This is all I have written right now, so there's no chapter cushion for me to fall back on yet! This chapter is mostly serving as a pilot, so PLEASE leave your feedback! I love feedback, positive or negative!  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	2. The Cold of Remembrance

The wind was cold as it whistled through his bones. He had nearly forgotten how this felt - how _angry_ it made him. The kid wasn’t an idiot; they could control themselves. But they _reset_ . The kid was an idiot. He kicked at the snow, flinching at the cold that slipped past the edge of his slipper - _the goddamn slippers that he’d almost stopped wearing._

He walked through town with his hood up. Normally, he wouldn’t bother, since the stupid thing always slipped off his smooth head anyway, but now he tugged the fabric up further, shrouding his face in shadow. He had been through this before; he had been through it _so many times_ before, but this time was different. He was not angry this time; he was furious. The kid promised. The kid failed. They failed their promise and their friends and they failed _him._ He had almost been happy. He _had_ been happy. He _trusted_ them. And they reset just because…

Because…

 _“_ Shit,” he whispered, digging a heel into the snow as he stopped. He’d almost forgotten - he had forgotten - just how fast things were lost to him. He stumbled into the inn, ignoring the frazzled bunny’s cries and ripping a piece of paper from behind the desk. Frantically, he began to write.

**_Reset ??? - Six years on the surface - kid was happy - i was happy - gang - alphys - death - undyne? papyrus? tori? - someone dusted - sneakers - pay my tab - two weeks_ **

The owner of the inn seemed to have regained her will to move, and she strode up to Sans, tapping him sharply on the skull. “Excuse me! I do not think you are being very polite, Mr. Sans. Please leave!”

He mumbled what might have counted as an apology and left, trying to add more to the paper. But, he couldn’t. What little memory he had of the timeline was slipping away. He cursed again, hurrying back to the house. Papyrus called to him as he entered, but his voice was lost to dead air Sans stalked into his room, slamming open drawers and looking for the key.

He walked into his lab, shutting the door behind him, and couldn’t help but sink to the floor. The memories were clearer here; they always were, and so his tradition of visiting the secret room remained intact. His breaths came out short as he slumped against the wall, the sobs and the memories wracking his body with spasms.

It passed in waves. Sometimes a memory would wash over him, clear as day, and other times he would get only the tiniest of glimpses into the tiniest fragments of the previous timeline. This time, like most times, fell somewhere in between. He forced himself to put the pen to the paper again as it overcame him, scribbling down more of what he remembered. It wasn’t much, at least when you thought about it relatively. Ten minutes of tiny impressions of memory for six years of life that never happened? Not exactly the most satisfying of rewards.

Just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. He sat back, pressing the heel of his palm into his cheekbone, just below his right eye. He had grown accustomed to the lack of pain there in the last timeline, but had known it was coming. After all, the pain was always there when a new timeline started; the pain was always the worst just after remembering. He supposed there may be a correlation between the pain and the lack of magical energy coming from that eyesocket. That eye had never done what it was supposed to, leaving his magic unstable and unpredictable. It had taken years for him to finally gain control over it, and he sometimes wished there _had_ been resets back then.

* * *

_“SANS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”_

_“Paps, not now, I just - I have to -”_

_“SANS, WHAT’S WRONG? ARE YOU HURT?”_

_“I’m fine, Papyrus, just get outta here. I don’t want you getting hurt.”_

_“IF WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING HERE WOULD HURT ME, IT WOULD CERTAINLY HURT YOU. ALLOW US TO LEAVE THIS PROJECT BEHIND. WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO TO GRILLBY’S?”_

_“Papyrus, I said get out!” There had been a flash of yellow and blue, a horrific crunching sound, and a shriek._

To this day, Sans was still unsure which one of them the shriek had come from.

_“Papyrus? Paps are you okay?”_

_“I AM FINE, BROTHER. I, UNLIKE YOU, AM VERY GREAT IN THE STATS DEPARTMENT. YOU COULD NEVER HURT ME! NYEH, HEH, HEH!”_

_“What was the crunching noise, then?”_

_“SANS, I DO BELIEVE YOU MAY WANT TO LOOK IN A MIRROR.”_

_He had. A crack had formed, running down the side of his skull and connecting with his right eyesocket, as black and dark as the void inside it. “Oh. Man, I should, uh, probably fix this, huh?” he had asked._

_“WORRY NOT, DEAR BROTHER. I, PAPYRUS, SHALL MAKE YOU A HEALING TREAT. TO ASSIST IN YOUR RECOVERY.”_

* * *

That hadn’t been the first - and it certainly hadn’t been the last - time that he had inadvertently hurt himself with his magic use. Luckily for him, his magic never touched his soul, or he surely would have fallen down. It used to exhaust him; it still did, actually, but not nearly to the degree it used to. Papyrus called him lazy, but the truth was he just never had the energy to do much else while actively controlling his magic. After a while, he had simply slipped into the lazy persona, much to the displeasure of Papyrus. It was easier, after all, to be called a lazybones than to admit to Papyrus how much pain he was in when his control lapsed. It was easier to pretend to fall asleep on the job than it was to hole up in his room, blocking out the concerned calls from his brother while he tried not to black out.

Once, he had asked about magical defects, but the librarian had said they weren’t qualified to give accurate information on that, and that he should talk to a doctor if he suspected something was wrong with Papyrus. Afterwards, he had thought about that remark for a while. Did _they_ think something was wrong with Papyrus? What could possibly be wrong with him? It wasn’t until someone had later commented on how much he cared for his brother that he realized the librarian had thought he would only be so desperate to learn if he thought it could help Papyrus. It was no secret how much the brothers cared for each other, even if they cared in different ways. Sans worried _for_ Papyrus; Papyrus worried _about_ him.

He never did ask a doctor. The only doctors were over in Waterfall, and they wouldn’t know about Papyrus; they would know he was asking for himself. Why that was such a bad thing, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he was embarrassed, or maybe he was ashamed. How had he turned out so differently from his brother? If they had parents, would they be ashamed of him for being so broken?

After Undyne had lost her eye to the human, he had casually slipped it into conversation, but hadn’t gotten to revealing the full extent of it.

* * *

_“Welp, guess we’re one-eyed buddies now, huh?”_

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“My right eye. It doesn’t work.”_

_“I’ve known you for six years, punk! Your eye works fine! What’re you playing at here?”_

_“Nothing. My eye, it, uh, doesn’t have magic… never has.”_

_“But I’ve seen you use your magic; it’s not like you don’t have it.”_

_“Oh. You’ve, uh, seen that, huh?”_ _  
_

_“Yeah! I mean, you don’t do it much anymore, but I used to see you when I’d go out on patrol. You’d be standing in the trees, muttering to yourself, and there’d be a big crackle of magic in the air. You’re powerful, Sans!”_

_“Not as powerful as you… or Paps.”_

_“Well, yeah, I mean, we’re strong, but we don’t have that much magic! It took me YEARS to learn how to use the green magic, and I’m still not great at it - you looked like it just came so naturally to you.”_

_“Yeah, maybe too naturally.”_

_“What was that?”_

_“Nothin’. How’s that eye feeling, anyway?”_

_“It’s great! I’ll let you in on a little secret: it’s all scarred over now, and it doesn’t even hurt; I just wear the eyepatch ‘cause it looks cool!”_

_“Oh, no pain, huh? That’s, uh, great.”_

_“Yeah! Gerson said it might hurt when I tried to use magic, but he was WRONG, fuhuhu! I still don’t really get what’s wrong with_ your _eye, but I guess we’re both just short an eye. Hey, it could be worse, though! It could be painful, or it could hinder our magic use, so we both got off pretty lucky, I suppose.”_

_“Heh, yeah, lucky us,” he had muttered, dropping his hand from its place on his cheekbone._

* * *

It was true, he remembered. He used to go off deep into the snowy woods when he felt a surge of magic coming. He would stand amongst the trees, hoping that the close quarters would confine his magic. There was more than one clearing of fallen logs from such attempts; not that anyone would ever know, for each time the world reset, the trees returned to their rightful place, towering up to the top of the caverns. He wondered how the forest would look if they didn’t. How many times had he gone out there? Maybe there wouldn’t even be a forest left. _No, wait. someone else must have been righting the trees. Someone must have been pulling them back to life with magic; Frisk hadn’t fallen down yet, so no one was resetting..._ He wondered, for a moment, who could possibly have nothing better to do than to clean up after his messes. After all, plenty of people did that now, but not without their complaints of having more important things to do.

He stood, shakily, and slumped over the workspace counter, his fingers tracing the blueprints that sat there. He couldn’t remember exactly when he acquired the blueprints, but they were always right where he had left them from the last timeline. His whole lab seemed the same as it was when he left the Underground, in fact. Glancing at the sheet covering the mass in the corner, he wondered if it had something to do with that fact. _But the machine’s been broken forever. I can’t fix it,_ he reminded himself. _If I could just read the writing on these plans… maybe I’m getting something entirely wrong._ The machine, like the blueprints, had been there longer than he could remember, and it had been broken for longer than he could remember. Something about the whole lab was off-putting, but he had never figured out exactly what it was.

His hands flew to the drawers, pulling them open in search of something new, but all that greeted him were his old notes: scribbles of previous timelines and their corresponding memories. He shoved the newest paper inside, slamming the drawer shut. “How could they be so fucking careless?” he grumbled to no one in particular.

 _They did it on purpose,_ his mind told him. _They were curious - that’s why they reset the first time on the surface, so what was to stop them from getting curious again? They don’t love you, or Papyrus, or Undyne, or anyone. You’re just an experiment to them. You’re always just somebody’s experiment. You -_

A sharp rap on the door roused him from his thoughts. _Where had that come from? Experiments?_ He looked up, trying to bring his voice back to a normal tone and cadence. “I’ll, uh, be out in a minute, Papyrus. Gimme a sec.”

“SANS YOU ARE GOING TO BE LATE TO YOUR POST. UNDYNE WILL NOT BE HAPPY WITH YOU!”

“Is she ever, bro? If anything, I’m only meeting her expectations, right?”

“HOW YOU CAN CONTINUALLY COME UP WITH NEW EXCUSES FOR BEING LAZY IS BEYOND ME, BUT I HOPE YOU SEE THE ERROR IN YOUR WAYS SOON. I WILL BE OFF TO _MY_ POST, SO I CAN CAPTURE A HUMAN AND JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD!”

Heavy footfalls muffled by snow followed Papyrus’ departure, and Sans found his fingers fiddling with the drawer handles again. Another drawer slid open, and inside was his old photo album. Pictures from a timeline were often more helpful than his jumbled notes, so he’d started taking them and bringing them back to the workshop whenever they made it to the surface. Pages and pages of these pictures didn’t help him now. Now, they made him angry. There wasn’t even a picture that accurately represented the last timeline. He’d grown so comfortable that after the two year picture, he’d just forgotten.

As he shut the book more forcefully than was probably necessary, he noticed something in the back of the drawer. _How odd._ A lone picture frame sat wedged up against the side of the drawer. Setting the book down, he pulled it out, his face knitting in confusion. The picture inside was faded, but it seemed to be of… him? With a group of people? He tried brushing away the dust and tilting the frame to get a better look, but the glare from the lights was perpetual. When he slid the picture out from behind the glass, he noticed that the areas over their faces were faded out, completely obscuring them. _What the…_

There was another picture behind the first. This one seemed to have the same problem, but there was only one face to be hidden. He looked happy in the photos. He couldn’t remember the last time he had looked that happy. Were these photos from before Frisk fell? They must have been, right? But, who was he with? He didn’t recognize any of the bodies in the group photo, and everyone was wearing lab coats, their hands hidden in their pockets. The second picture was even more of a mystery. Just looking at it made his skull throb, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t concentrate directly on the mystery person.

He left the photos out on the counter, pushing the drawer shut. He didn’t have time to think about it now; he had to go see a kid about a demon.

The path was the same. It was always the same. A thin film of powdery snow followed the breeze, making the ground seem just a little further away than it really was. He could never really remember any more, but he guessed he and… Tori? Tori, right? Tara? Tori? Had been a source of happiness in each other’s lives before little Pacifist Frisk came along. It was always how he started the resets; was an old routine that he fell back into with too much ease. He raised his hand and knocked twice on the door, projecting a loud “Knock, knock,” in its direction.

No one answered. A chill ran down his spine, and he contemplated turning on his heel and running into the trees. _Did they kill her already?_ He let his hand fall against the door again, somewhat louder this time, and accompanied the motion with a more frantic, “Knock, knock?”

“Who is there?

A gasp of relief hitched in him, and he closed his eyes briefly, thanking whatever good still existed in the kid that they were strong enough to resist. For a moment, he forgot that he had something to say. No matter how many times Frisk reset, he had been true to his morality, which told him that he had to make every timeline as similar to the last as he could. Memories of repeated days and lines said over a thousand times, like something from a script, flooded back. “Snow,” he said finally.

“Snow, who?”

Knowing what came next, Sans could not help a small sliver of misery from forming in him. “Snow use, I forgot my name again.”

Her laughter was quieter, darker, and Sans braced himself for the promise to follow. Despite all the times he’d been through this, he still hated promises. Maybe it was because he couldn’t ever guarantee that he’d keep this promise, or maybe some parts of his stubborn personality just persisted through the resets and darkness. “Hey, uh, that one got a pretty good laugh outta the folks at Grillby’s… What’s up?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just something has been bothering me lately.”

“Care to share?”

“If a human ever comes through this door, could you please, please promise something? Watch over them and protect them, will you not?”

He hesitated, if only for a moment, but, in the end, he responded as usual. “Sure, why not?”

He could think of plenty of reasons why not. A human kid took out Undyne’s eye, they only needed one more soul to go free, humans were dangerous when confronted with things they were afraid of, and this particular human was grappling with more than just fear. But, he had never said no before, and while he was curious what would happen if he switched things up, curiosity was what started this whole cycle to begin with. Adding another layer could mess up _everything_. So, he said yes, and she perked up and thanked him and promised to come back even though she was busy right now. Sans never knew the whole truth of what happened behind the door before he met Frisk. What were they doing in the hours between his promise and his greeting?

He never knew before, so logic dictated that he never would. He could ask, but he felt that destroyed the integrity of the timelines. He couldn’t expect himself to be omniscient - that would only make it harder for him to keep the script the same. Besides, it wasn't like he could even guarantee the knowledge would stick. Perhaps he’d already asked once before, and the answer was lost in another timeline.

Resigning himself to the wait, he trudged back to his sentry station and sat, slumping on the counter with his chin in his palm. He’d sit here for a few minutes, then go wandering into the forest like he always did. He wasn’t sure how doing things differently before Frisk emerged from the Ruins would affect the timelines, but he didn’t particularly want to find out. Well, that was a lie; he wanted nothing more than to experiment with the timelines and how far he could push the limits, but that would be putting him too close to in Frisk’s shoes, and he could hardly be so hypocritical as to stop the kid from doing it and then turn around and do it himself. So, he sat and listened to the monsters passing by and reminded himself to buy some hot dogs before he finally heaved himself up from his chair and walked off. A rustle behind him alerted him that some monster had just left the conveniently-shaped lamp sitting in the snow, but he didn’t turn around. He never turned around.

The forest looked as it always had: trees bundled too close together, snow inching up their trunks and reaching greedily for their few remaining leaves. Sometimes, he’d pluck on off and let it flutter down to the snow, it’s edges trembling and shriveling upon impact. _Nature magic - the most fragile magic of them all,_ he would think. Other times, he didn’t stroll lazily through the forest, instead choosing to take shortcuts all throughout the trees, losing himself in the maze of trunks. Once, his shortcut had led him directly into a trunk, and that had _not_ been a pleasant experience. He shuddered at the memory, recalling the weirdest discomfort he’d felt in his life. It hadn’t really hurt, but the fact that there was a tree shoved through his ribs and half of his skull had still held true to what such a circumstance would feel like.

He wasn’t entirely sure when it had happened. _An early reset would make the most sense, seeing as my control over my powers still hadn’t been perfect, but the earliest resets were the hardest to remember. Perhaps,_ he considered, _it had been before the resets started._ Those memories were, technically, the most recent, and so often popped into his head at the beginning of a new timeline. It was strange, knowing that years and years had passed since the actions were performed - since the memories were made - but they were as clear as if they had just happened. Probably, he supposed, because they had. _We may call them timelines, but time is far from linear. If it was, my life would be a whole lot simpler._ How many years had he lived? How old was he, really? Sure, he could say he was 28, since that’s how old he always was on this day, but how many times had the kid gone through the Underground? If they didn’t break the barrier, the timelines lasted anywhere from less than a day to just over a week, but multiply that by whatever-ungodly-number of resets? That was years of life, years of memories swirling around in his head - years of memories that, according to time, never happened. Tack on the years spent on the surface and the number shot up even faster.

A distant rumbling filled the air, and he sighed. It was time, finally. He had grown used to the low scraping of the ruins doors over the resets, and had once begun to embrace the momentary panic and anxiety it filled him with. It was both comforting and unnerving, both transient and eternal; the sound of that door meant either his best friend or his worst enemy was walking out into the world, and he had no way of predicting which. He stepped through the void, reappearing just within the line of trees bordering the path.

The doors closed behind the small figure, and they looked around warily. No, not warily… shakily? The kid was frantic, their eyes darting in every direction as their head moved slowly. His promise to himself became increasingly difficult to keep as they called out in a small voice, uncharacteristically loud in the quiet forest.

“Sans?”

The voice was broken and weak, and he had to remind himself that _they reset, and they’d better have a damn good excuse as to why._ Hearing their voice only made it harder; the kid only used their voice when they were particularly scared or upset.

“Sans, plea-” their voice broke off mid word, and they lowered their head. They, too were remembering, he realized. _Their_ mind was full of the memories from the previous timelines, each one clear as a bell and vivid as the blood that bloomed across their chest in so many of them. But _they_ had no reason to be afraid. _They_ were in control of this world, and had exhausted every possibility conceivable. Any and every way he could judge them, they had heard. They knew exactly how to get what they wanted, so why should they be afraid?

And yet, they had never called his name like this. They had never looked so _goddamn scared_ before they had even met the people they should be scared of. He wanted to step out then and there, to confront them and get their excuses out of the way, but he stood rooted to the spot. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Defeated, they walked forward, taking their steps slowly, reacclimatizing to the path they hadn’t walked for _six years._ How was it fair that it was so unfamiliar to them but so familiar to him? In considering it unfair, he wasn’t exactly sure who was getting the short end of the stick. Would he really rather remember everything? He watched as they walked carefully, stepping over the branch as though it was nothing. They sure remembered quickly. There was no looking around curiously, prodding every nook and cranny for secrets they’d forgotten, seeking images to jog their memory of the beginning. They knew exactly how this would play out, and they remembered it.

 _Had they been planning to reset?_ He got the vague impression that there were times they had spent locked in their room for hours, hidden away from everyone. He remembered asking Tori (Tori? Tori.) once what they were doing in there, and she had replied that they had taken up writing, and did not want to be disturbed. When he asked what they were writing, she had said they refused to show anyone, but that she had caught a glimpse and it seemed to be about the Underground. _Were they reminding themself how things go down here? Were they reminding themself of the story that they were going to dive back into?_

His fists clenched together and for a moment he thought he was going to shatter the bones in his hands, even through the thick winter gloves, but he released the tension after forcing a deep breath. _Huh, never done that before._ He supposed it was a residual effect of being around humans for so long in the previous timeline. They always told them to calm down and take a deep breath when they were upset, and even if he didn’t have lungs, exactly, he had to admit it was calming.

Noting their distance up the path, he stepped out from the trees, treading lightly over the snow to avoid breaking the near-silence of nature. He approached the stick and raised his foot, bringing it down in a heavy stomp. His gravity magic may or may not have been used in assisting this stomp. After all, bones alone aren’t all that heavy - a skeleton needs some help once in a while.  The stick cracked, releasing a loud, hollow sound that echoed through the dense forest. Before the kid had a chance to turn around, he disappeared back into the trees. He reappeared a little further than he’d have liked, but not far enough that he missed their pleading voice cutting through the air again.

“Sans, please. Just come out and talk.”

But he wouldn’t. They had to meet at the bridge; they always met at the bridge. He reappeared behind them as they turned to the front again and continued walking. Following at a safe distance, he stuck to the shadows, hidden just enough to be visible only to those who knew where he was. Frisk never knew where he was. He watched them approach the bridge, and suddenly their steps became unsteady.

They were falling.

There wasn’t any real need for him to help them; if he hadn’t, they’d just be right back here anyway, one load of a save point later. Call it instinct, or conscience, or maybe just the fact that he didn’t really feel like sitting through the last few hours again, but he was by their side in an instant, one hand wrapped around their arm and another looped around the gate on the bridge. He tried not to look them in the eye as he pulled them up, but despite his efforts, he still caught a glimpse of their face. It was full of fear and pain. They looked how he supposed he probably felt, deep down. It wasn’t too hard, after all his practice, to push most of his emotions deeper and deeper down until he wasn’t quite sure where exactly they were. These emotions bubbled up at night and when he started to drink, but what were a few thousand sleepless nights when they let him appear mostly sane to his friends?

They stood on the bridge in silence for a few moments, Frisk regaining their composure and balance and Sans pointedly looking anywhere but at them. His eyes came to rest on his slippers, and he examined their stark contrast against the dark wood.

“Sans, I’m- I’m so sorry, I just.. I just…”

He didn’t look at them when he spoke. “Don’t waste your breath on apologies. Explain.”

“Sans it was- I was-” Their voice cracked when they spoke, and they cut off their sentence abruptly, tugging his sleeve with a small hand. He didn’t look up, and they didn’t speak. Finally, they simply grabbed his face and forced his gaze up, the magic in his joints crackling as his neck moved. His eyes landed on them, and he felt a strange pang in his chest. They were so young. He hadn’t seen Frisk this young in, well, six years. This was the Frisk he had befriended and bespeckled with blood; this was the Frisk he had grown to love and grown to fear. It was shocking, to say the least. He wanted to chuckle for a moment as he realized they were once again shorter than him, but he suppressed it, holding his stony stare. A flash of movement made him notice they were signing to him, and at first he didn’t look. Why should he indulge them after what they had done to him? They had caused him pain, so shouldn’t he get to inflict a little on them, however indirectly?

But, eventually, he drew his pupils to their hands, giving in to his conscience. He was angry, sure, but he wasn’t a bad person, right? How could any good person justify being so petty as to purposefully cause a child discomfort? He watched their hands carefully, grateful for their somewhat slower pace, since, although he had known sign language before Frisk fell, he had definitely gotten better with the practice of being their friend over the years. Their slower pace, however, did not stop them from rambling out an explanation to trump all rambles, which he somehow managed to process.

**Sans, I didn’t mean to, I swear. I was just really scared and I panicked when they killed Papyrus - he wasn’t even fighting, Sans, he was trying to talk them down and he was just being so nice to them and Undyne was trying to get him to run or fight or do something but he just wouldn’t and Toriel was so close to fighting them I could see the magic she was starting to use but I couldn’t just let her hurt them and Undyne was so miserable that she couldn’t even summon spears and she was being overwhelmed and I couldn’t see you Sans I couldn’t see you and I panicked I couldn’t be responsible for your death again I just couldn’t I had to stop it and I just couldn’t focus on the save point and it all just reset before I could even stop it and-**

He reached out, trapping their hands under his own.

“I’m so sorry, Sans. I’ll make it right, I swear.”

He didn’t speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I think I've figured out a system that will work with my busy schedule! I'm planning to do weekly updates, most likely on Saturdays or Friday nights, but bear with me if I'm late! I hope you're all enjoying this story so far! I had originally planned for this chapter to cover much more, but by the time Saturday rolled around I was barely even here, and decided that it was long enough anyway.  
> Also, I had originally written that one line as "pushing his emotions deep, deeper, yet deeper", but figured that would be kind of cheesy. c:  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	3. Night Beavers..?

He didn’t speak for a long time, but he didn’t remove his hands from Frisk’s, either. They stood in silence for a while, listening to their own thoughts mixed with the quiet rustling of branches. Sans thought of home, and though he didn’t know it, so did Frisk. The problem was, of course, that neither of them really knew what that meant any more.  Sans also thought of anger, of seething rage and cooling kindness, and he thought of holes. There were plenty of holes in his memories, and while he liked being able to chalk it up to the resets, he knew they existed beyond that as well. Monsters talked about family and the concept of home a lot, but he could never partake in such discussions. Papyrus was the only family he had. He knew, of course, that his family existed - no one just existed without a family, but he lived without a family; he had a family, but he didn’t _have_ a family.

More than once, Frisk opened their mouth as though to speak, but then closed it before any noise could escape. What would they even say? _T_ _here’s nothing they could say,_ he realized, and he let go of their hands, his own dropping uselessly at his sides. He hadn’t even had time to prepare his whoopee-cushion-in-the-hand trick, and he felt his arm brush the lump in his pocket on the way down. With their hands free, Frisk started to sign again, but stopped, likely noticing that, while Sans’ eyes were trained on their hands, he wasn’t focusing on them at all. So they waited, like they always did, for his mood to pass.

He wondered, often, how Frisk could be so patient with him. He knew that even after years on the surface, he still woke up in terror during the night and let his magic loose. And he knew that, often, Frisk was the recipient of such a blast. There was a suspiciously human-shaped dent in his bedroom wall, but luckily no one had commented on it. Every time, though, Frisk would get to their feet, however shakily, and come sit by his side, comforting him. No matter how much he hurt them, they were there.

Shouldn’t he do the same for them?

But being so unconditionally kind was harder than it looked. One must fight against the temptations of envy and anger, of betrayal and rage. And to do so, one must be incredibly strong. Sans was not this strong. He thought it funny, in the early days, that a child, a mere child, would prove to be more resilient than he; that a child’s kindness would be stronger than all his rage and chaos. He didn’t find it funny any more. In fact, he reflected upon it with the perfection of hindsight, recognizing that the kid would _of course_ be stronger than him because the kid was just that: a kid. And man, did kids have potential. People would always talk about what their kids were going to amount to when they were older, but no one ever focused on what those kids were _right now_.

The kids were pure. Not in any of the warped meanings used in warped situations, but pure in the sense that they were untainted by the sympathy of maturity. That’s the thing, see, adults have sympathy; kids have empathy. These two things, contrary to popular belief, cannot coexist in one mind. And it took Sans a long time to realize such things, as he had always thought of empathy as connecting and sharing experiences. He thought his conversation with Undyne about their eyes had been empathy - they were sharing the same experiences, more or less, so they could understand what the other was feeling, right?

But then he met Frisk. And Frisk didn’t try to connect, and often couldn’t, given their lack of real-world experiences. But that lack of experience is what made them so compassionate and kind. It took a long time, and a long time living around adult humans, in fact, for him to realize it, but Sans had learned that those experiences that broaden your worldview and mature you are the very same experiences that harden you and close you off. And he had certainly lived through enough of these experiences to warrant such hardness of the persona as the hardness of his skull.

He had only seen one adult human soul, but he learned something from that experience. Adult human souls were swirling and complicated, a mixture of preoccupations and self-pity; child souls were a reflection of the child: pure and vibrant. Frisk’s soul, deep red with Determination, had been changing in their years spent on the surface. He glimpsed it, from time to time, when he inadvertently attacked them. But now they stood in front of him, time healing their soul of such experiences, but not their mind. Time alone does not heal a mind; this he knew. His memories stirred and he caught glimpses of colors and with each color, an emotion. There was blue, a feeling of helplessness and confusion; purple, a feeling of guilt and shame; brown, a feeling of joy and sorrow at the same time; yellow, a feeling of anger and fear; and white, the feeling akin to a sense of belonging.

He, of course, had no idea what these colors meant, but appreciated the memory nonetheless. He appreciated any memory he could get nowadays (thenadays? soon-to-comeadays?). And while he appreciated the glimpses, he wondered how the universe could pick and choose which memories he got - and why. Surely there was something in those memories that could fix what was broken - could bring back what was missing - but the trouble was that without the memories he had no way of knowing what that something was. He had considered, on more than one occasion, asking Frisk if they knew, but had never been able to push aside the feeling that it went missing long before Frisk’s time.

One thing monsters had over humans was their superior senses. Monsters, made of magic and in tune with their surroundings, could see and hear things far before humans could. So, with the distant thumping of boots in snow, Sans remembered why they were here, and how much he had already messed it up.

“Come on, kid. Papyrus is gonna be here soon, and you’ve got a lamp to get behind.”

Now it was Frisk’s turn to not speak. They nodded almost imperceptibly and started to walk forward before Sans stopped them.

“Hey now; I’ve got a line.”

Frisk stopped, a confused look crossing their face.

“Why don’t you go through this gate thingy?”

Their expression morphed into one that was comprised of equal parts guilt and gratefulness.

“Yeah, go right on through. My bro made the bars too wide to stop anybody.”

He stood aside, and waved Frisk through, following closely after. Hearing that Papyrus was a safe distance away, he stopped, causing Frisk to turn back in confusion. He’d already mucked with the timeline enough, so what was one more deviation?

“That line was a lie, technically. No matter how much I love papyrus, no one is above getting pranked. I came out into the forest late one night and I, uh, sawed off every other bar. Paps was, pretty upset, you know, understandably, but I just told him that the ‘night beavers’ had claimed the gate as their territory, and he, heh, he believed me and left the fence alone. He doesn’t like to patrol up here much, and that, uh, might have something to do with it,” he admitted sheepishly. It _had_ been a funny prank, and it wasn't like Papyrus was _devastated_ by it. “I dunno if he really cared about the gate keeping humans out, or if he just liked building things. He told me the next sentry station he was going to make would be crafted out of cardboard, though, after I assured him that, no, there’s no such thing as cardboard beavers.”

Frisk gave him a curious look. They didn’t laugh, but a hint of a smile cracked their blank expression, and a small lurch of their body alerted him to their silent chuckle. Frisk never really liked his pranking - they thought that it was kind of rude - but that didn’t stop them from laughing when he told them about his escapades.

A heavy clomp in the distance was loud enough to alert even Frisk, and together they finished crossing the bridge and entered the clearing. “Quick, behind that conveniently shaped lamp,” he called out theatrically. Maybe he was mad about the reset, and maybe his trust in Frisk was a little fractured, but the kid was pretty good at keeping promises, he had learned, and so what harm could it do to at least be a little happy while they did their thing? They’d be out of here in a few days, unless…

Unless Frisk let Chara back in. He shuddered and his eyes flicked toward the lamp. He had forgotten to ask them about Chara - how stupid was he? There could be a little psychopath hatching in the kid’s mind, and he was sitting here making them laugh.

Unfortunately, he had no time to remedy this oversight, as Papyrus marched up to the clearing and planted himself in front of Sans. Sans forced himself to tear his eyes away from the lamp. Despite what it meant, he had always enjoyed this scene, chuckling to himself about how Papyrus simply refused to have his rant interrupted, and never bothered to turn his attention even the slightest bit to the right; if he did, he would have seen Frisk here instead of later, and Sans often wondered how that would have gone down.

In the first resets, before he realized this was going to be a continuing occurrence, he had decided to try something different, especially since he saw Frisk was trying something different as well. Papyrus’ question had been a little different, so he made his answer a little different. It had taken the silent child’s icy glare to remind him of the severity of the situation and stop him from bursting with laughter after Papyrus simply walked away after Sans had said he’d found a human.

His brother could be a goofball, from time to time, and maybe got a little overexcited about certain things, causing him to overlook the things of actual importance, but he was strong. Sans had seen some of the training he did with Undyne, and it had gripped his soul with fear. The first time he watched, he thought Undyne was going to kill Papyrus - like actually kill him. The second time was much later, and for a moment, he thought Papyrus would kill Undyne. This thought, of course, was before he remembered that this was the same Papyrus who took it upon himself to keep Sans’ pet rock from starving. He hadn’t thought about it before, but, man, was he a paranoid person. Even before Frisk’s resets and betrayals, he had already jumped to the assumption that everyone was just going to kill each other, given the chance.

“Sup, bro?” he drawled as Papyrus was upon them.

YOU KNOW WHAT “SUP,” BROTHER! IT’S BEEN EIGHT DAYS AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T… RECALIBRATED. YOUR. PUZZLES! YOU JUST HANG AROUND OUTSIDE YOUR STATION! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING?!?”

 _Oh, Paps, it’s been a lot longer than eight days since I touched those old things._ “Staring at this lamp. It’s really cool. Do you wanna look?” A part of him wished Papyrus would, that they could just take the timeline’s script and throw it to the ground, crushing it under the curiosity that weighed on his neck. But it was really up to him and Frisk to break the norm. Sure, there were minor differences in every timeline, but it’s not like anyone else had enough knowledge to be curious.

He wondered, as Papyrus was saying something or other about getting recognition, _why_ Frisk hadn’t broken the timeline script yet. Okay, coming back to slaughter everyone wasn’t exactly sticking to _the_ script, but it was _a_ script, and they had stuck to it. Despite their curiosity, they seemed to think the only way to change things was through the act of playing God. They assumed that the only significant changes could be made through life or death decisions rather than, y’know, saying something different… there were easier ways to get to know someone than killing them and/or their family.

Realizing Papyrus had stopped speaking, and that he wasn’t sure how long ago, Sans scrambled to cover his mistake. “Uh, hmm… maybe this lamp will help you?”

_Shit, that’s not a question, is it?_

Papyrus didn’t seem to notice; he carried on like usual, calling Sans lazy and accusing him of boondoggling… what was boondoggling? Sans had always meant to ask, or look it up, or something, but had never gotten around to it. Maybe Paps did have a point with that whole ‘lazy’ thing.

 _I have a pun here, right?_ “Hey, take it easy,” he said to his brother, who had stopped stomping the snow in frustration, but looked a lot more tense than someone without muscles should be able to be. “I’ve gotten a _ton_ of work done today.”

Papyrus glared at him; he didn’t need to remember the resets to know what was coming next. The glare was both pleading and warning, a silent dare to finish the thought. Sans, of course, was always up for a dare.

“A skele- _ton_ .” He briefly turned away from Papyrus, taking just enough time to wink into the forest, as though there was an audience there. And maybe there was; after all, the Underground was full of kids, and they did like to explore the forest, so it wouldn’t have surprised Sans to find a gaggle of kids hidden away in the skeletal trees and bushes. _Heh, skeletal… I oughta use that if I remember it._

“SANS!!!”

“Come on. You’re smiling.”

Papyrus digressed, admitting to the smile so quickly that the moment was over before it began. Following this admission was another spiel about hard work and recognition (RECOGNITION, SANS!).

“Wow, sounds like you’re really working yourself… down to the bone.” This time, on a split-second decision, he turned the other way, shrugging for Frisk. They had turned to look at him, their shape no longer fitting the lamp in such a perfectly convenient way, but it didn’t really matter; it wasn’t like Papyrus would have noticed in his current state. He had thrown his arms up in exasperation and left, making what was, admittedly, a pretty good pun. Upon his departure, Frisk had stirred from behind the lamp, ready to step back toward him. His eyes flicked to them with a warning glance, and they stopped just as Papyrus came strolling triumphantly back into the clearing for one final, “HEH,” and departed once more.

“Ok, you can come out now.”

He eyed Frisk as they came near, but apparently not nearly as covertly as he thought, as Frisk immediately began signing again.

**Sans, I’m not going to hurt anyone. I’m not going hurt him. I promise.**

“I never said you were, kiddo.”

 **You didn’t have to. You know what I’ve done, Sans.** **_I_ ** **know what I’ve done. But I won’t do it again. I promise.**

“Gee, kid, you sure make an awful lot of promises for someone who doesn’t speak.”

**Shut up, Sans. I’m being serious.**

“And here I thought you were being Frisk.”

Rather than replying, Frisk reached out and smacked him across the arm. Hard.

“Hey, take it easy. What if you’d killed me there?” he joked.

**I know what it takes to kill you.**

He felt his pupils blink out of existence, and he snapped his gaze to their face, searching for any sign of redness. “Uh, kiddo? You wouldn’t happen to be, y’know, channeling a child demon or anything right now, would ya?”

**Sorry, that was kind of rude. I shouldn’t scare you like that.**

“Apology accepted, kid, but you, uh, didn’t answer my question.”

 **No. Chara isn’t here…** They frowned. **I don’t think they are, at least.**

“Well, good. I guess you got ahead of them, so, uh, don’t stay in one place for too long? Y’know, you never really told me how this all works… or how they, uh, got into your head in the first place.”

**Do… I need to?**

The kid looked distressed. Like, really distressed. Sans had seen that look precisely three times - that he could remember, at least - and one of them had been when Toriel (he was pretty sure that was her name, now) asked Frisk why they flinched whenever they hugged her. It was the look of someone with a secret, and a secret they really didn’t want to share, at that. He supposed he’d have to pry it out sooner or later, for everyone’s safety, if not for Frisk’s own. Forcing his pupils to rematerialize, he put his hands up.

“No, not unless you want to. It might help, though.”

 **No,** they affirmed, shaking their head, **I don’t think it would.**

“Suit yourself, kid, but you oughta get going. He might come back, and if he does, you’ll have to sit through more of my hilarious jokes.”

Wasting no time, Frisk spun on their heel and strode off, and eager bounce in their step. Sans had no way of knowing exactly _why_ Frisk reset, or if they really felt bad about it at all, but there was no denying that they were having fun, right here and now. Sans had often wondered if, despite their determination to reach the surface, Frisk had really _wanted_ to leave the Underground at all. Had there not been a kill order on them, would they have simply… stayed? Another thing he didn’t know was how they came to be in the Underground in the first place, but seeing as they had nowhere to go when they surfaced, he presumed the reasons for their arrival weren’t exactly of the adventurous and accidental nature.

“Actually, hey,” he called, just as they set foot outside the clearing. “Hate to bother ya, but can you do me a favor?”

Now, usually, Frisk stayed silent here, waiting for him to continue. But they seemed bent of doing things differently, and so they, of course, had to interrupt. Had Sans been a human, reading someone’s hands from that far away would have been difficult, but, being a monster, he understood perfectly.

**Anything. Anything, Sans.**

He chuckled to himself. No one could say the kid wasn’t eager to please. “I was thinking… my brother’s been a bit down lately...(I’ve been a bit down lately)...He’s never seen a human before...(you know why)... and seeing you might just make his day. Don’t worry. He’s not dangerous…(even if you are)... even if he tries to be. Thanks a million. I’ll be up ahead.”

Without another word, he turned and sauntered off into the forest. Hopefully, the kid wouldn’t be too preoccupied with certain, say, violent, tasks, and would be continuing on through the forest shortly. Once out of Frisk’s sight, he hopped over to the next path and waited for Papyrus.

His brother arrived shortly and, if he remembered correctly, precisely on time. He strode up from behind Sans and announced, “I HAVE FINISHED BUILDING MY NEWEST SENTRY STATION. IT IS VERY GREAT AND FITTING FOR SOMEONE AS GREAT AS I. WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IT, SANS?”

“I’m sure it’s great Paps, but why bother building new sentry stations? Don’t we already have, hmm... five? There’s only two of us.”

“THE CANINE UNIT HAS ASKED ME TO STOP ATTENDING TO THEIR POSTS. I WAS GOING TO TALK TO UNDYNE ABOUT IT, BUT I DECIDED THAT SUCH A PLAN WOULD NOT BE VERY SELF-SUFFICIENT. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM VERY AMBITIOUS, SO I TOOK IT UPON MYSELF TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM. UNDYNE HAS NOT BEEN PLEASED ENOUGH WITH MY WORK YET TO ALLOW ME ENTRY TO THE ROYAL GUARD, BUT I AM SURE THAT IF SHE SEES ENOUGH-”

A rustle from near the far trees startled Papyrus, but, seeing nothing, he continued. “SO, AS I WAS SAYING ABOUT UNDYNE,” he began. Another rustling noise alerted him to Frisk’s presence, and he turned in surprise.

As he turned back to Sans, Sans turned to face the human, and when he turned back, Papyrus turned. They kept this up for a while, the smile on Sans’ face growing wider as he watched his brother get dizzy as he spun like a top. Finally, they came to rest facing Frisk, and Papyrus’ voice came out louder than ever.

“SANS!! OH MY GOD!! IS THAT… A HUMAN!?!?!??!?!”

Before Sans could respond, Papyrus continued, “AND IT LOOKS SO FAMILIAR…!!!”

This caused Sans’ smile to falter and his head to whip around, looking up at the taller skeleton. _He remembers? He has the Deja Vu, at least…  Did he recognize them in the other timelines?_ Sans wracked his brain for any recollection of Papyrus showing timeline retention, but came up empty. He was a little glad, he realized; as desperately as he wanted someone to talk to about the resets, he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all Papyrus. Recovering from his momentary shock, he drawled out, “Uhhh… I think it looks familiar… because it’s a rock?” At least there was still a way to recover the joke.

“OH.” Papyrus sounded dejected, so Sans shrugged and let the joke go faster than usual.

“Hey, what’s that in front of the rock?”

“OH MY GOD!!” He turned and leaned over slightly, cupping one hand around his mouth and dropping his voice. “Is… Is That A Human?”

Sans followed suit, mimicking his brother’s hushed tone, whispered, “Yes,” and was nearly blown over by the change in volume that followed.

“OH MY GOD!!! SANS!!! I FINALLY DID IT!!! UNDYNE WILL… I’LL BE SO…”

He let Papyrus’ loud ramblings fade into the background again as he pondered why his brother was so desperate for _Undyne’s_ approval. Was it not enough that Sans was proud of him? Did he even know that Sans was proud of him? It was, he supposed, kind of his fault that Papyrus had gone to Undyne in the first place.

* * *

_“SANS, WHY NOT?”_

_“Look, Paps, bein’ a sentry could be dangerous. I don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”_

_“WHAT ABOUT YOU?”_

_“Gerson and I, we’ve got this, uh, arrangement. My job’s not that dangerous, but it’s one of a kind.” Honestly, his job might have been given to him out of pity. After all, could Gerson have really turned down a kid who was just trying to provide for his little brother?_

_“I DON’T NEED A NOT-DANGEROUS JOB. I AM VERY STRONG, AND WOULD SURELY DEFEAT ANY DANGERS.”_

_“It’s not that I don’t believe in you, Paps,” he had said, his voice low and quiet from exhaustion. “I just don’t think there’s any openings in the guard. I’m not even a part of the guard, and they probably don’t want to make up another job. It’d just mean one more monster to pay.”_

_“I WOULD DO IT SIMPLY FOR THE HONOR.”_

_“Paps, can we just talk about this later? Trust me, I’d talk to someone about it if I could, but that Undyne girl just became captain of the guard, so she’s kinda my boss now, and I kinda don’t know her very well.” He had sighed and gotten up, wanting nothing more than to just go to sleep. “Besides, she lives all the way over in waterfall, and that’s just soo far_ ,” _he finished with a yawn._

 _“FINE,” Papyrus had grumbled, stalking out the door. Sans probably should have gone after him, or at least asked where he was going, but he had just been_ so tired _. His magic control had been all over the place, and it was taking more than its fair share of his energy._

_In the morning, Papyrus hadn’t returned, and Sans, suffice to say, had freaked. He tore through the town, asking over and over if anyone had seen Papyrus, only to be greeted with a chorus of ‘no’s. Later, he had gotten a phone call from Undyne, and almost didn’t answer it, expecting a lecture on being late, but instead got both relief and shock._

_“Hey, Punk, why didn’t you tell me your brother was coming over? At midnight?”_

_He had cringed, apologized, and groaned in the span of approximately 2 seconds._

_“Nah, it’s cool. Your bro’s a pretty cool dude! He’s super excited, anyway, and I could use a sparring partner. I told him I’d train him, if that’s okay.”_

_“Uh, sparring? That sounds a little… I mean, well…”_

_“You can say ‘no’, dude, but it’d probably crush your bro’s heart. He’s outside with the training dummy right now… though, now that I look at him, it seems like he might be… offering mercy or something.”_

_“Whatever. Y’know, whatever Paps wants… if that’s okay with you.”_

_“Yeah!” Her voice grew distant, presumably as she pulled her head away from the phone. “Hey, Punk! Sans said yeah, I can train you!” Redirecting her words to Sans, she added, “I think you made him pretty happy,” before hanging up._

* * *

When he came back to reality, Papyrus was off in the distance, ‘Nyeh-heh-heh’ing his way to do… whatever Papyrus did during his day. It probably was puzzle-related, Sans decided. Frisk was still rooted to the spot, likely overwhelmed by Papyrus’ old temperament. One thing Sans recalled from their life on the surface was that Papyrus had significantly calmed down over the years. He was still much louder and more present than humans - or any other monster, for that matter - but by Papyrus standards, it was a huge change.

“Well, that went well,” he chuckled. “Don’t sweat it kid. I’ll keep an eyesocket out for ya.”

He followed the distant figure of Papyrus, leaving the kid standing in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this chapter was going to be much longer, and stop at a different point, but I had a real time crunch this week, and so I apologize for this boring little filler chapter where not much really happens. But, then again, most chapters will be at a similar pace - maybe a little faster - so if this isn't your thing, you've been forewarned!  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	4. Remember No Evil

He met Frisk again no more than five minutes later. After reveling in the satisfaction of seeing them slip all the way across the ice patch no less than three times, he caught their attention and started into his warning. For a moment, he thought Frisk might interrupt him to point out how positively unhelpful the blue stop sign analogy was, but they remained silent. He watched them out of the corner of his eye, scrutinizing their every move, especially as they encountered other monsters.

They left him standing by the ice patch, but backtracked along the path multiple times, passing by him and not returning for a few minutes. Each time, a small wave of heat passed over the clearing. Perhaps heat wasn’t the right word… it was more of an energy… a magic. _They’re creating save points,_ he realized. The save points, he recalled, were another thing he had never asked about, or, at least, had never received an answer about. But he decided that it could wait until they were back on the surface. Once, as they passed, Sans checked their stats, and was taken aback by their striking lack of HP, but didn’t think about it much once relief flooded him; the kid’s EXP was still 0.

It occurred to him that he was angry with them, or, rather, with their luck. He had finally made up his mind, and decided that he was definitely getting a worse deal out of this whole resetting business. Frisk got to wash away their sins, got to go back and fix their mistakes or regrets; he got to relive moments that he could never change - got to experience the world according to their whims and wishes. He was their experiment. They were all just playthings in the hands of a child - a child with powers greater than they are ready for. A child with powers that could be used sparingly for the good of everyone but were only being used for their selfish entertainment. There was no denying that they liked the Underground, but maybe not for the reasons everyone thought.

He recalled that, once, he had tried to reason with them, but his words were lost on a revenge-bent ghost of the past. He recalled that, once, he had asked them if what they had to do was really so important, but his words were lost on a child oblivious to what the culmination of their quest would be. He recalled that both times, he had mentioned friends, laughs, food, and drink, but none of that mattered to the child. They were fascinated with the Underground because it was _their_ world. They were in control; they were a monarch in a kingdom where they could do no evil because any evil could be wiped from the minds of their loyal subjects in a heartbeat.

Each time they proceeded to where Papyrus was waiting, Sans would take a shortcut to join them. But, several times, they simply walked into the clearing and walked back out, forcing him to retake his position by the ice patch. _Are they playing with me? What possible reason could they have for going back and forth so much?_

It was not until he saw them scooping a handful of shining coins into their pockets that he realized they were basically scamming the monsters of the Underground. Each time they encountered one and spared its life, it would leave behind a small reward of gold. _What the hell is wrong with this kid? They’re going out of their way to get in fights, only to end them with kindness…  for money? This seems like a lot of effort for being greedy…_

After the third encounter with an icecap-wearing monster, Sans had had enough. He reached out, snagging the kid’s sweater as they hurried past. “Hey, kid, what are ya savin’ up for?”

Frisk looked only the slightest bit guilty at the prospect of being found out, and shifted their treasure in order to pull their hands free of their pockets. They signed quickly and kept their hands close to them, and Sans had to wonder if this was their equivalent of mumbling.

“What was that, kiddo?”

 **I really like cinnamon bunnies,** they signed, only slightly more visible than last time.

“So you’re just taking advantage of innocent monsters to get your fix? You’re really getting into the local culture, huh? Do you ever leave coins for them?”

 **I,** they paused, shifting from foot to foot. **I never thought to.**

“Do you know why they do?”

Frisk shook their head, and Sans sighed. _Taking advantage of a custom without even understanding it? Geez, this kid really is messed up._

“Monsters don’t get into fights often… sometimes encounters are accidental and all, but most fights were just that: fights. We stopped killing each other a long time ago - no fight is a fight to the death amongst us these days - but, uh, some still like to fight, and it was an idea that just sort of spread: the loser gives the winner some sort of prize or token.”

**That sounds awful! Isn’t that encouraging fights?**

“Based on what you’ve been up to, I’d say it does nothing but encourage fights. But based on how everyone else treats each other, the answer is no. Monsters aren’t that, hmm... greedy, I suppose. We mostly just share and sorta help each other out. It’s, uh, pretty rare for someone to be going hungry or anything, whether they’ve got money or not.”

Frisk flinched at the word ‘greedy’, and hurried to their defense. **I don’t mean to be taking from them… it’s just that I need to keep myself alive… You said monsters help each other out, so does it matter if I get their money?**

“I said no one goes hungry, not everyone goes happy.”

**I- I’m sorry, but, you said it’s customary. How do I let them be the winner and give them the reward? Every encounter always tells me I won…**

“I’m not asking you to give back. No matter what weird method you used to get it, the gold’s yours now. Just don’t, y’know, go out of your way to get into fights anymore, capiche?”

**Sorry, Sans.**

“You say that an awful lot. Prove it.”

With that, he walked off, skirting the ice patch and disappearing from the kid’s view. Once he came to the puzzle, he tried to take a shortcut to the other side, but instead ended up in the very middle, earning him a very disgruntled Papyrus once he turned around.

“SANS!!! I AM GLAD YOU ARE TAKING AN INTEREST IN PUZZLES, BUT COULD YOU KEEP OFF OF THEM WHILE I AM TRYING TO TEST THEM?!?”

“Sorry, bro. Dunno what happened there. I’m just feeling bone-tired all of a sudden.”

“SANS!!!”

“So, what is this and how do I get out of here?”

“YOU ARE LAZY, SO I SUSPECT YOU WILL FIGURE OUT A WAY TO DO IT WITH MINIMAL EFFORT. IF YOU ARE FEELING UP TO THE CHALLENGE, I COULD TURN THE PUZZLE BACK ON… BUT I AM NOT SURE HOW POWERFUL THE ELECTRICITY IS, NOR HOW MUCH IT WOULD HURT YOU, SO I THINK I SHALL HOLD OFF ON SUCH DANGEROUS PUZZLES FOR NOW.”

“Geez, Pap, I’m not that fragile.”

“JUST GET OFF THE PUZZLE, SANS, THE HUMAN COULD BE ARRIVING ANY MOMENT.”

“The familiar human?” he prompted as he shuffled across the puzzle, unsure of what response he was hoping for.

“YES… NO… I’M NOT SURE. OBVIOUSLY I WOULD REMEMBER CAPTURING A HUMAN, BUT...  REALLY THOUGH!!! THAT HUMAN!!! DO I KNOW THAT PERSON???”

Sans shifted his eyes from side to side. If Papyrus remembered, he didn’t remember much, seeing as he could barely grasp the familiarity of Frisk. “Do you not know.. who you know?”

“PBPBPPBPT!! OF COURSE I KNOW WHO I KNOW!! I WANTED TO KNOW IF YOU KNOW I KNOW WHO I KNOW AS MUCH AS I KNOW I KNOW WHO I KNOW! … YOU KNOW?”

Sans blinked. He didn’t even know how to comprehend, much less respond to, what his brother had said. Instead, he noticed his own striking lack of energy. All that keeping up with Frisk had worn him out… he wasn’t sure if he could even use his magic at the moment. _Were they… tiring me out? Are they planning to attack us and they wanted to make me useless? What the hell is this kid up to?_

He didn’t have much time to dwell on the terror that gripped him, as Papyrus exclaimed, “OH-HO, SPEAK OF THE DEVIL!”

Frisk stood on the other side of the puzzle, looking as though they might vaguely remember this. They played along and followed Papyrus’ directions, not bothering to forewarn him that they might need to be the one holding the orb. _Considering my failures in preserving the timelines’ integrity, maybe I’m not one to be judging about keeping mouths shut._ He had to admit, anyway, that it was pretty funny to see Papyrus get shocked, and it was an old comfort that he would immediately blame Sans for his troubles.

Papyrus marched proudly through the puzzle, leaving heavy footprints in the packed snow. Sans had to hold back a laugh, as Papyrus seemed completely oblivious to the path, even as he watched the human walk through it. Then again, though, maybe he wasn’t. If there was one thing Sans knew about his brother, it was that he didn’t particularly like to cause harm to anyone. It was, after all, why Undyne had done everything in her power to wean him away from his Royal Guard dreams. But, if there was one other thing he knew about his brother, it was that he did not let go of wishes so easily.

After Papyrus had left with the promise of a difficult puzzle on Sans’ part, dropping a stone of guilt into his soul, he turned to Frisk.

“Hey, thanks… my brother seems like he’s having fun. By the way, did you see that weird outfit he’s wearing? We made that a few weeks ago for a costume party.” Truthfully, he barely remembered this. While memories from the previous timeline and memories from the time before the resets vyed for a space in his brain, he only got instinctual feelings about the things he was meant to say. How these feelings could arise when he could hardly keep his head on straight was beyond him, but it made the timelines easier, he supposed. Presently, he couldn’t remember when the costume party actually was, or why it was thrown, or even who hosted it.

“He hasn’t worn anything else since…” he continued, shrugging as he spouted words that no longer felt his own. “Keeps calling it his ‘battle body’. Man. Isn’t my brother cool?” It was a silly thing to ask, seeing as Frisk obviously knew Papyrus and had, without a doubt, declared how cool he was on many occasions, but he asked anyway, if for no reason other than it felt wrong not to.

Frisk didn’t reply; keeping their eyes down, they slinked past him. He reappeared near Dogamy and Dogaressa’s stations, and leaned against a tree. As he watched them run around, bouncing up to the nice cream vendor and pushing the snowball around, he was troubled by a nagging thought. The thought, like most, was not a particularly good or bad thought, but rather one that ignites curiosity instead of satiating it. _What would happen if I called Undyne?_ He figured it probably wasn’t the best idea, since, if the kid was telling the truth, they’d be out of here soon. Considering they had a surefire storyline that got them to the surface, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be messing with it.

But, then again, they had that surefire way, and could always go back to it. That was the hidden beauty of the resets… they could try out anything they wanted, and it had no consequences. Or, at least, almost no consequences.  Just as he was ready to dial Undyne’s number and, well, do his job for once, Frisk came close. He nearly dropped the phone, startled by their sudden presence. _Geez, guess that snowball tax isn’t really doing much. They weren’t even preoccupied for five minutes._

“Uh, I’ve been thinking about selling treats too,” he blurted, eyeing the Nice Cream in their pocket. “Want some… fried snow? It’s just 5G.”

They shook their head, looking far less than amused. _Sheesh, kid. Why’d you want to come back here if you’re just gonna nip the jokes at the bud? They don’t look too happy… why would they do this?_ No matter his opinions of the child, he didn’t voice them aloud. “You’re right,” he said instead. “I should charge way more than that.”

After a brief moment of slightly prolonged eye contact, Frisk turned away, waddling off through the snow. Sans had to admit, he was a little hurt that they rejected him so fast. From what he could remember, they usually got to at least 50G before rejecting him. He glanced at the phone in his hand again, remembering what he had been ready to do, and then shoved it back in his pocket. It was too unlike him to care so much about his job, and, as of now, he certainly didn’t have a real reason to break his promise. Even if he tried his best to never make them, the ones he did make, he tried to keep with his life.

Hopping over to the next clearing and throwing a word search on the ground, he watched Frisk circle back around out of sight. He sighed and prepared himself for another round of teleportation tag, but ultimately decided against it. _I said I’d trust ‘em. If I won’t even let them out of my sight for a few minutes, I’m really terrible at this whole trusting thing._

He heard the distant bark of Lesser Dog, a high pitched yip, more than anything else, and glanced up to find a pair of ears visible over a section of trees. _At least they’re making someone happy,_ he conceded. Turning toward a noise behind him, he saw Papyrus marching up toward him.

“AH, SANS, YOU HAVE FINISHED CALIBRATING YOUR PUZZLE, I HOPE? I THINK THE HUMAN IS NEAR! WE MUST IMPRESS THEM WITH OUR PUZZLE PROWESS!”

“I thought we were capturing them.”

“WE ARE, BUT WE SHOULD MAKE A GOOD IMPRESSION WHILE DOING SO. CAPTURING A HAPPY HUMAN WOULD BESTOW GREATNESS UPON ME… AND BY EXTENSION YOU, I THINK.”

“Oh, okay.”

“SHOW A LITTLE MORE ENTHUSIASM, SANS!! WE WILL BE HEROES… I THINK. I’M NOT EXACTLY SURE WHAT HAPPENS AFTER I GIVE THEM TO UNDYNE. DO YOU KNOW?”

“Uhh… no… no clue at all.” Could he really tell Papyrus what needed to happen in order for a human to be of any use to them?

“FAIR ENOUGH. I SHOULD ASK UNDYNE AT THE NEXT GUARD MEETING HOW WE WILL BE THO-.”

“You’re invited to guard meetings? You’re not actually in the guard," he pointed out, not paying attention to the part of Papyrus' sentence he had interrupted.

“I GO TO GUARD MEETINGS. GREATNESS NEEDS NO INVITATION.”

Yikes, another thing he’d probably need to apologize to Undyne for. Or not. Every time the kid came through, it didn’t seem like she really liked him, or even… knew who he was. He was just ‘Papyrus’ brother’ every time she mentioned him. _Does she even know my name? Why would she have forgotten? And when? It’s not like we were strangers before._

“Hey, Paps, do you remember how we used to hang out with U-”

He hadn’t stopped talking - not quite. But his words had slowed to the pace of a snail who would surely lose in Thundersnail. The end of Papyrus’ scarf no longer rippled in the breeze, but stayed lifted off his back, twitching ever so slightly and ever so slowly.

_What are they-_

* * *

_This one was small, but even the smallest of cracks can break a window._

* * *

The crunch of snow came from his right, and he turned to find Frisk looking even more scared than before. Blinking, he took in his surroundings. He was back in front of the ice patch, and the kid was standing before him, eyes wide and lip trembling. Logically, when confronted by a child on the brink of tears, one doesn’t snap or growl, but this was a very illogical time, and so that is exactly what Sans did.

“What the hell was that for?”

They startled at his language, and he mentally cursed himself. _They’re still just a kid. They’ve got some heavy shit weighing on their mind. Just be civilized for a second._

 **I - I can’t do it, Sans. I failed; I…** The rest of their words were lost in a flurry of trembling hands, and he reached out to calm them, trying not to react to their flinch.

“Woah, kiddo, calm down. What are you talking about?”

**I killed Lesser Dog, Sans! I was just petting and petting them and there was just this feeling of rage. It came out of nowhere, Sans. I was happy and having fun and then I just… It felt like I had to. There was this voice, Sans. Right before I did it, the voice screamed in my head, “Enough!” I couldn’t stop myself, Sans, I couldn’t!**

Tracks of tears were running down their face, already crystallizing in the bitter cold. If Sans knew Frisk - and he was pretty sure he did… somewhat - he knew that they could never be so emotional during a lie. If there was one thing he had learned from his life, it was how to tell a lie, and the kid had always been terrible at it. “Hey, kid, it’s okay… well, it’s not, but just, uh… stop crying, maybe?”

**Sans, they’re back and I can’t stop them. How are we going to get to the surface? What if I reset and kill everyone? What if I-**

“Kid, you did it before, and you can do it again. We’re counting on you to, and, y’know, you don’t want to let us down, right?”

**It’s been so long, Sans. I don’t know if I remember how. I’m out of practice in blocking them, and after the time on the surface, they just sort of faded into the background. But now they’re back and I don’t know what to do.**

“Well, for starters, you could rethink answering my question. How did this even happen in the first place?”

They took a deep breath, shuddering in the chilled air. **I - I erased the world.**

Okay, so maybe not the answer he was expecting. Frozen with shock and confusion, he didn’t even reply, instead opting to stare blankly at the kid.

**They weren’t in my head the first time. It was only after I came back and… killed everyone. They offered me a way out of what I did. They offered to help me erase the world. But it wasn’t an offer, Sans. They wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. So I did it. And everything went black and I was scared and I just wanted to see you or Papyrus or anyone because it was dark and I was so alone.**

**They mocked me. They questioned me. But in the end they made a real offer: the world for my soul. I couldn’t just leave you all to rot in whatever twisted end that was - I couldn’t, Sans. And now they’re here… they’re a part of me. My soul belongs to them.**

“Wow, kid, that’s, uh.. I don’t even know what to say about that. I mean… wow.”

**I know it’s a lot, Sans, but you’re really not being any help here.**

“Okay, okay, fair enough. Um, so there’s no way to get rid of them, then. I mean, selling your soul is kind of a huge deal. So I guess you’ll just have to re-learn your blocking techniques or… whatever you call them.”

**That could take a long time, Sans!**

“Not like anybody but me’ll remember it. And there doesn’t seem to be another option here, does there?”

**Will you help me? You can keep an eye on me, right? You can stop me before I do anything bad?**

“Um, that’s, uh, a lot to ask,” he said, scratching the back of his skull. “I’m not just constantly following you… I have jobs, you know.”

They didn’t even have to speak; their glare implying everything he needed to know. Jobs were apparently not a valid excuse if your break times added up to more time than you were required to work.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll watch out for you. Remember what I said: I’ll keep an eyesocket out for ya… I’ve said that, right?”

They gave in and let a small smile creep across their face as they nodded. **Thank you,**  they signed.

“No problem kid. I couldn’t just give you the _cold shoulder_ , now could I?”

They simply rolled their eyes and walked away.

The timeline seemed to progress without a hitch, after that. Frisk solved puzzles, Sans messed them up, and Papyrus complained about both of them. Despite what he had said, eventually Sans grew tired of watching the kid’s every move, and since he hadn’t explicitly promised them, he decided it would do no harm to wander out in the forest for a while. It was as he was walking in a part of forest close to the edge of Snowdin Town that he heard them.

“Mo-om! I just wanna go play with the others!”

“You’ve been getting in too much trouble lately! I don’t want you around other kids; they’ll just influence those bad decisions more!”

“That skeleton brought me back _once_ , mom. That’s hardly trouble. I promise I’ll be good and careful; can I just go?”

“Fine, but remember that the Timekeeper is watching you!”

There was the sound of a door shutting and rapid footsteps approaching, accompanied by a loud, “Whatever!”

The owner of the voice burst through the trees ahead of him, and Sans called out, “Hey, kid.”

They turned to look at him and froze for a second. “Aw c’mon! I wasn’t even doing anything!”

“You aren’t in trouble; I just want to know what you were talking about.”

“What? With my mom?”

“Yeah. Who’s the ‘Timekeeper’?”

“That? That’s just some stupid story she told me when I was little. Did your mom never tell you it? _‘The Timekeeper is watching you,_ ’” they repeated, their voice an octave higher than before. “ _‘The Timekeeper knows what you’re doing all the time, no matter where you are! You can’t hide your choices from the Timekeeper!’_ Man, it might have scared me when I was five, but it’s just a little kid story now.”

“But who are they?”

“Man, I dunno! They’re just the Timekeeper. Stupid name anyway, if you ask me. Can I go now? My friends are waiting for me.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” Sans mumbled, waving him away. _The Timekeeper… someone who sees your every move and action… weird. Seems like they should be called the spacekeeper, or the consequence giver, or something. But, why have I never heard of this? That kid acted like everyone knew about the Timekeeper… but if that were true, I’d have heard it, whether myself or through Paps. It sounds almost like they gave Karma a different name and made it into a person or something._

Something felt off about the word, like it was foreign to his tongue no matter how many times he said it. “Timekeeper,” he muttered again. “What a miserable existence that would be.” Of course, it was pretty close to his own existence, he realized. The only difference was that he was full of guesses and inferences, whereas this ‘Timekeeper’ really knew what was going on. If they were a keeper of time, they could probably see into other timelines, too. If only he could meet them…

If only they existed. _Geez, what is wrong with me? Fantasizing about meeting a figment of folklore? I have reached a new low, here and now._

“HUMAN,” Papyrus’ voice sounded in the distance. “ALLOW ME TO TELL YOU ABOUT SOME COMPLEX FEELINGS…”

Sans made his way to the tree line, tucking himself into the shadows to watch. He cursed the town’s eternal winter for the blizzarding snow that obscured his view, leaving only shadowy forms to play out the scene in front of him. He was unsure of how many times he had watched this, of how many times fear gripped his soul and rendered him useless, but he couldn’t just not watch. He had to be there for Papyrus. He had to have Papyrus near. No matter what Frisk chose, he had to be there, whether ‘there’ was the celebration of a new friend or his brother’s last moments.

He could hear Papyrus vocalizing his inner conflict as he tossed bone attacks their way. Sans often wondered what would happen if Papyrus went all out in battle, but he supposed he’d never find out. The closest he had seen was when Undyne and him sparred, but even then, it looked like he was holding back. If only he wasn’t so innocent all the time, if only he would just assume the worst once in a while, maybe he’d be a force to be reckoned with instead of a clown for their entertainment.

“NYOO HOO HOO,” Papyrus’ voice filled the air again. “I CAN’T EVEN STOP SOMEONE AS WEAK AS YOU.”

 _But you could. If you just tried, you could. Maybe not everyone deserves to be spared,_ he thought. But he knew that didn’t apply here. There was only one way for them to get to the surface: the kid had to live. If they died, they’d just try again. There was no way to take their soul. And even if trapping them in an endless cycle of death seemed appealing at times, even if he knew getting to the surface wasn’t even half the battle for happiness, he couldn’t deny everyone else that hope and freedom.

Sighing, he followed Papyrus back to their house, trailing Frisk once again. He holed up in his room, avoiding crossing paths with either of them. As he listened to faraway voices becoming friends, he sank further into his bed, drawing the blankets up around him. He lay there for a while, staring at the wall, and couldn’t even be bothered to rouse himself to play some incidental music for Papyrus. The kid had asked him to help them, to watch them, to stop them, but what did it matter? If they made a mistake they could fix it far easier than he could. It wasn’t like they needed him at all. He sighed again, slowly. He had given up a long time ago, but every time they reset, he had to act like he cared all over again. It was exhausting, to say the least.

He heard laughter and joyful tones in voices that taunted him from downstairs. Why did they get to be so happy? How could they be so happy? Did their guilt not affect them? _Do they think that making friends with them again is more than enough to make up for what they did? Do they not realize that becoming friends again is only what they owe them, not what they can do for them?_

“IF YOU’VE FINISHED LOOKING AROUND, WE COULD GO IN AND DO WHATEVER PEOPLE DO WHEN THEY DATE.”

_I guess it doesn’t hurt to see Papyrus kinda happy. Even if he feels inadequate, it’s better than the alternative. It’s better than seeing him the morning after a long night at Grillby’s, and it’s better than seeing him dead. Does he even know what he’s doing, capturing a human? Does he even care about seeing the surface? He might be the only person I know besides myself who is perfectly content just staying down here. But it’d be easier to want to stay if Frisk was gone._

It was a cruel thought, sure, but it was true. He had seen what the surface was like, and it wasn’t a much happier place than the Underground. His life down here had been fine until Frisk came along, trapping them all in this endless cycle. But everyone else still saw the surface as a paradise to escape to - their rightful place that they would reclaim. He couldn’t change everyone’s minds, so why bother changing anyone’s?

“SHALL WE START THE DATE?”

If it made Papyrus happy, he could pretend to be okay, he supposed.

“HUMAN, THERE IS NO NEED TO ENGAGE A FIGHT. THAT IS NOT HOW DATING WORKS. HERE, I HAVE ACQUIRED A DATING RULEBOOK. LET US READ IT.”

If it meant he could become friends with Frisk again, he could help move things along, he figured.

“HUMAN, ACCEPT MY MERCY AND LET US HAVE THAT DATE.”

“HUMAN?”

“WELL, I CAN’T SAY I EXPECTED THAT. HUMAN LOVE CUSTOMS ARE QUITE… VIOLENT. BUT I KNOW IT JUST GOES TO SHOW YOUR TRUE FEELINGS CANNOT BE HIDDEN IN MY PRESENCE. I HOPE THIS OUTCOME DOES NOT DISTRESS YOU TOO GREATLY. MONSTERS ARE NOT ACCUSTOMED TO SUCH ACTS. IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.”

 _Not their fault? What’s not- no. No, no, no, no._ He leapt out of bed, throwing blankets haphazardly to the floor and bolting out the door. By the time he opened Papyrus’ bedroom door, the only thing to greet him was a small child covered in dust and a red scarf.

He felt his left eye flare up, magic crackling through the air, and was ready to summon the blasters when the world slowed again. He and Frisk locked eyes, each one staring the other down with a wild emotion in their gaze. He didn’t know what to make of their expression. It was sorrowful and bored at the same time, horrified and apathetic in the same look.

And then he was back in the forest, hearing a distant cry of, “Mo-om!”

This time, he sought the kid out, intercepting them as they turned away from the ice-wolf.

“Really, kid?”

**I’m sorry, Sans, but I think this is going to be a long ride.**

* * *

****_Somewhere, the split was jagged and long, and a flash of lightning against a sunset sky came to mind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, finally got this done! Sorry for the late upload; writer's block hit me hard this week. I hope you're all still enjoying this story - I'm very excited to continue writing; it's starting to get into the more interesting parts, or, at least, what I think is interesting. Thank you for reading this far!  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	5. Stories of the Past

He shut the door to his workshop once again, leaving the pile of papers in the dark. The world around him was calm, with flakes of snow drifting down every once in a while, landing on his sleeves and twinkling before they disappeared. The world could be calm, but he could not. If not for the careful numbering atop each page of records, he would not have known how many times he had lived this day, or this week, or however long it even was. His grasp of time was gone, muddled by memories and gaps and jumps through time. How the other hims in other timelines were getting on, he would often wonder, but would never know. Surely, plenty of them had died; surely, plenty of them had snapped, driven insane by the knowledge that they could change nothing, had been given that final push he was always missing; surely, some of them were happy, but he would never know.

The real question was how many of them were there? Were the Frisks in those timelines constantly saving and resetting, jumping back and forth through time and creating more and more branches of this neverending purgatorial tree? Or did the Frisks in those timelines disappear, leaving everyone confused and broken? Perhaps there was only one Frisk, hopping from timeline to timeline, leaving a trail of dust and shards of broken hearts. This, too, he supposed, he would never know.

It was not so much the resets or jumps through time that bothered him; it was the nerve of the child to face him each and every time with a smile on their face. It was the nerve of the child to befriend the people they had killed before; it was the nerve of the child to stay in his home while he remembered them slaughtering his friends, time after time. It was not fair, but the world rarely was.

He could have felt bad for them, under different circumstances. There was no denying the impossible weight that rested upon their shoulders, or all the knives hanging over their neck by the hopes and dreams that they dared not to break. He figured they fancied themself daring, brave enough to break their lifelines. But they were wrong. They dared to push these dreams to their limits, crushing hope beneath their heel, but only because they knew that they would be fixed, reset to their original optimism by their command. He would never call them daring, but brave was a different matter. After all, if they were so determined to do it over again and get it right that they would continue for this long, could they really be called cowardly?

It wouldn’t be long now. He would have to face them again sooner or later, and though he knew that both would happen, he couldn’t simply skip the sooner. It was getting tiring, to say the least, having to play along with the kid’s struggles and shenanigans. It was still difficult to look at them after what they had done to Papyrus. Even after he invited them into their home, after he had the kindness to spare them and befriend them, they had the audacity to slaughter him in his own room. They had the audacity to try and go back in time before Sans could even see him or grieve for him. It didn’t matter that he was alive and well now; it didn’t matter that the kid sought to put things right; somewhere in a timeline there was a Sans huddled in a dusty room, wrapped in a tattered red scarf.

There were many of those, scattered across the branching timelines, all consumed by the fury and depression that resulted. Many of them must have been continuing on, shells of their former selves. Others must have died, desperate to stop a force much more powerful than them. All of them must have felt as he did now. Rage and apathy were dangerous roommates, with each one threatening to overtake the other, but never quite managing it. The only thing Sans could think of it, though, was that it made for one nasty headache.

He closed his eyes and stood for a second, tilting his head up and imagining the sun shining on his face again. It was what had brought him comfort in the early timelines, but now he found he could hardly recall the feeling as anything more than a fleeting dream. After all, according to time, he had never felt the sun on his bones, and, logically, he could not remember something he never felt.

But it was proven, by now, that Sans didn’t particularly care what time thought, and so he pushed harder into the memory, trying to cling to one of the few scraps of hope he had left.

But it was gone before he could reach it, slipping out of his grasp like so many others, the memory disappeared. He sighed, letting his posture drop back to its usual slouch, and carried on.

This time, he did not watch their journey or stop them. It was a promise that he had never quite made, and so had never quite broken. Now, he was about to break the one promise he had made. They were still coming for those that remained. He had to stop them, to give the others a chance. But there was no chance. Unless they could capture the child’s soul, which he knew they never could, the barrier would remain, and they would all be trapped with a relentless murderer. Even so, he could do his best to delay the inevitable. It was strange, to say the least, to be able to face his death not with fear or resistance, but with acceptance instead. He wondered if this was how Undyne had felt, and decided that, no, it likely wasn’t. He could not muster up determination like her; he could not fight out of bravery or nobility. He would fight because there was simply nothing else to be done. He was fighting, but he knew that, in the end, he, too, would turn into dust. Undyne had expected to come out of her battle with the prize of a human soul and justice. She had not accepted her death; she had fought it with everything she had. And that was why she was a warrior, and he a judge.

* * *

“ _I, PAPYRUS, WILL GLADLY BE YOUR FRIEND AND TUTOR!”_

_They took another step toward him._

_“I WILL TURN YOUR LIFE RIGHT AROUND!”_

_There was no missing the malevolence in their eyes as they grew closer._

_“I SEE YOU ARE APPROACHING. ARE YOU OFFERING A HUG OF ACCEPTANCE?”_

_The child’s arms shifted, their posture becoming more open as they took another step. He could not intervene. There was no way to know yet if they would spare him or not. He couldn’t kill them before they made their choice._

_“WOWIE! MY LESSONS ARE ALREADY WORKING!!”_

_It wasn’t that he had no reason to stop them, or that he hadn’t the power to, but both he and Asgore had, at one point, believed in the good in everyone, and so agreed that the old policy would continue: no human would be met with resistance from either of them until they reached their judgement. And only if they were the most horrible creature imaginable, only if there was no bringing them back from whatever they had become, would he be permitted to fight them. He wondered if he would have agreed to the policy if it hadn’t been a preestablished one, but there was no going back now; he had made his vow and sealed it in magic. It was the only promise he had ever truly kept, as it was the only one he had ever truly made._

_“I, PAPYRUS, WELCOME YOU WITH OPEN ARMS!”_

_Their arms continued their path, opening into what looked like a plea for hugging. But their reaching upward had another motive, and the long sleeves that covered their hands hid more than frostbitten fingers. They worked quickly; the attack was over before either skeleton knew it began._

_“W-WELL, THAT’S NOT WHAT I EXPECTED…”_

_The child did not look away. Their eyes locked on to the dying monster’s, and they simply stared. So did Sans, but he figured they were staring with a different emotion behind their eyes._

_“BUT...ST...STILL! I BELIEVE IN YOU!”_

_The child tapped their foot against the ground, shaking dust from their shoes as they looked down upon the head in the snow. With each tap, Sans felt his anger grow, and it took all he had to rein his magic in._

_“YOU CAN DO A LITTLE BETTER! EVEN IF YOU DON’T THINK SO! I…”_

_The child did not wait to hear his words. They placed their foot atop his head, leaning all their weight into it as it, too, crumbled to dust._

* * *

The child entered the hall slowly, as though hesitating before what they knew would come next. It gave Sans no pleasure to be such a source of fear, for if he feared the person who feared him, they must both be equally terrible, and that was a comparison he had not been ready for when he first thought it. He had spent countless days, weeks, months, _years_ , trying to control them and teach them how to be good, but how could he teach them if he was just as bad? He wondered if, when they first arrived in the Underground, they even needed to be taught. After all, they were a child, and children were known for being exceptionally empathetic. But the question arose when one factored curiosity into the equation, for the curiosity of children was known for being exceptionally destructive. He wondered how they felt, here and now. Was it even Frisk any more? Were they entirely consumed by Chara’s hatred and bitterness by now?

The biggest question he had was whether they could see what was going on, whether they could comprehend what they were doing. His answer came in the form of mercy, and it both vindicated him and broke his heart to hear the sickening crunch of magic bones ripping through flesh, and to see the pool of red expand across the dusty floor. “If you’re really my friend,” he warned, towering over their broken form, “you won’t come back.”

And they didn’t, at least, not in the immediate sense. He found himself back in his bed in Snowdin, listening to the sweet sounds of Papyrus making spaghetti in the room beneath his. He had never been so glad before to hear such sounds.

* * *

_This cannot continue. Too many cracks and it will shatter. It cannot be allowed to shatter._

* * *

The timeline was peaceful, for the most part; a bustling and loud capital and a sleepy yet crowded Snowdin greeted him, and he felt just a little bit safer. He wondered if this might be the one where they finally escaped, but would later be proven wrong by the news of Mettaton’s death. The kid seemed to have nearly forgotten about save points these times around, resetting whenever the smallest thing went wrong. He didn’t know if there was a logic to the madness, or if they just liked to watch him squirm.

Before they reset, before they killed Mettaton, however, they asked him a question. It was the first time he had heard them directly reference another timeline, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

**Sans, Undyne, she had- she was- that was determination, wasn’t it? She had determination, but Alphys said monsters couldn’t handle determination, and she was melting, but she wouldn’t give up. How could she do that? Why?**

He took a deep breath, readying himself to explain, but stopped. How could he put it in terms they would understand? He couldn’t be scientific, partly due to his lack of actual knowledge on the subject and partly because they wouldn’t understand it anyway; and he couldn’t just skirt the question, since the kid probably wouldn’t leave him alone until they got an answer.

“Monsters are, essentially, beings without a lot of hope,” he began, tracing the designs on the table with his finger as he spoke. “They’ve been locked underground for longer than most can remember, and their chances of going free are less than bleak. When they’re dying, they accept it, because what else can you do? It’s the natural order, right? They joke and face the obstacles of the day, but they really are a miserable people... until the humans start falling. Now imagine a little girl, hotheaded and wrought with fighting spirit. Imagine this girl hearing that they only need two human souls to break the barrier and free everyone from this misery. She’s tough and strong-willed and wants nothing more than to make people happy and keep them safe.

“Now imagine she meets someone who doesn’t care as much. Imagine she meets someone who is ready to give up on life because why bother going on? Imagine how she would react. She, who wants nothing more than to give people a happy and safe and long life, is faced with someone who doesn’t want to be saved. Imagine that they let her save them anyway. Now she’s got this will to make everyone live and be happy, and she’s faced with someone who has none of that will. Now, her goal is to get everyone to live, but her desire is to get this one person to live - y’know, really _live._ She wants to make them happy in the same way they make her happy. So now, she’s got this will for everyone to live, and this will for just one person to experience what it’s like to feel alive. And in wanting them to feel alive, she realizes that she knows what it’s like to feel alive, thanks to them.

“Now imagine someone,” he gestured to them, “comes along, slaughtering everything in their path. Imagine they’re headed straight for her and this soul that she so desperately wants to save. What can she do but sacrifice herself? After all, she’s already gotten the chance to feel alive, so don’t they deserve to live until they can feel it, too? Imagine she steps in to give that same chance to a kid who’s as innocent and full of hope as she once was. Imagine that the fate she chose is upon her, and she realizes that once you know what it’s like to feel alive, you don’t ever want to let it go. You never want to stop feeling like that. And imagine, as she’s dying, she realizes that everyone else _does_ want to feel that way, and that there’s so many who haven’t gotten the chance and they all have this one clear dream, and they’re depending on her to let it come true. And she realizes she’s got the same dream, too.

“So tell me, kid, if you felt that, would you really let go of your grip on this world?”

They looked at him with wide eyes, appearing awestruck in the face of his story. They seemed to be enjoying it, as though it were a folk tale they were hearing for the first time.

“Kid,” he said again, “this isn’t a children’s story, it’s Undyne’s life, a life that you ended - multiple times. I hope you learned something from this, but I guess I’ll be the _judge_ of that.”

Their face scrunched up in what he assumed to be a mixture of guilt and annoyance. **But if monsters can get determination like that, why don’t more?**

He sighed. “Kid, did you listen to a word I said? This is Undyne we’re talking about, and it took her years to get there. And, y’know, you kind of already saw what, uh, happens when they do get it.”

**I’m sorry.**

“Stop saying that, kid. What are you sorry for? Do you even know anymore, or do you just say it when you’ve got nothin’ else to say?”

**I’m-**

“Kid.”

**Sorry.**

“Seriously?”

They stayed silent and still, their eyes glimmering with thought.

“Look, kid, I’m still rootin’ for ya. You’re pretty much the only one who can free us from this hellhole, so I’d, y’know, appreciate it if ya did.”

They nodded and scampered off.

It was when he headed back to Grillby’s to watch their fight with Mettaton that he noticed it.

“Hey, Grillbz, don’t you usually wear that pocketwatch on your left side? Are you feeling  _all right_ today?” he asked, eyeing the pocket on the monster’s vest.

At first, he thought the bartender wouldn’t even grace his joke with a response, but, after a moment, he replied, “No, I always wear it like this. I am left handed. It is easier to reach this way.”

“C’mon, Grillbz, I’ve known you for how long? You can’t expect me to believe you’re left handed all of a sudden.”

“Sans, I have always been left handed.” He spoke slowly, a hint of concern in his voice.

“Okay, Grillbz, have your fun. Not sure what the purpose of this prank is, but I’ll play along.”

“... there’s no prank, Sans. I legitimately have no idea what you are speaking of, as I have always been left handed. Does that bother you somehow?”

“Yeah, because you’ve always been - nevermind. Is MTT’s show on yet?”

“I didn’t know you were a fan of the robot, Sans. Caught the fever like everyone else, have you?”

“Nah, I’m more interested in his special guest.”

When he saw the violence in the kid’s eyes, he got up to leave. Just as he stepped outside, he heard the patrons of the bar erupt in a chorus of gasps and “Mettaton!”s. Wasting no time, he took a shortcut to his workshop and snatched up his pen and paper again. As he started in on a note about the exchange with Grillby, time slowed to a crawl, and he found himself in his bed again, Papyrus’ spaghetti making squelching noises below him.

* * *

_This one was deep, like a canyon, and for the first time in a long time, it was painful._

* * *

He went through the motions again, ruffling through the papers scattered about his workshop, glancing at snippets of past timelines and hunching over the table with a dull ache reverberating through his skull. He glared at the machine again out of bitterness, even going so far as to send an angry foot into its side, doing nothing to increase the machine’s capacity to work, and everything to increase his own pain. That was one thing that kind of sucked about being a monster, he reasoned. Humans were pretty used to pain from everywhere, but monsters, being affected by the intent to hurt, were not usually vulnerable to such things as accidents. Of course, when their own intent to hurt backfired, it hurt - a lot. He cursed quietly and turned back, poring over the papers again.

**_Reset 105 - They’ve killed Papyrus again. No one else, just him. The dirty little brother killer is taking their time to show up in the corridor, and I don’t understand. They should have reset by now. They always reset whenever something goes wrong now. They should be resetti_ **

**_Reset 86 - We’re going to leave. They broke the barrier, and I’m just writing this before we leave, in case anything goes wrong._ **

**_Reset 87 - We spent five minutes on the surface._ **

**_Reset 116 - Grillby is left handed? Grillby isn’t left handed, I know it. I can’t prove it. I’d never write something like that down.  The kid killed MTT this time. They were almost there - could they really not hold it tog_ **

He sighed, putting the papers back in their drawer and pulling out the photos instead. He glared at the mystery photos every time he was in his workshop, but nothing ever came. Something brushed his hand as he went to put the album away. It was a small piece of cardstock, no bigger than his hand. Just as with the photos, he stared at it for a long time, but no memory came to him. There was a scribbled picture of three smiling people. He supposed, with a lot of leniency, one of them sort of looked like him. And, following that logic, another could potentially be Papyrus… but who was the third? There was no mysterious force obscuring the third person, unless poor drawing skills could be considered mysterious. In the corner, two words were neatly printed, a stark contrast to the sloppy picture. **_don’t forget._**

 _Well,_ he thought, bitterness creeping into his mind, _it’s a little late for that._ He tossed the card back into the drawer with everything else, shutting the memories in the darkness. Maybe he would talk to Asgore, to see if he could change the law. After all, why not just obliterate the kid in the forest? Why give them the chance to hurt people? Maybe he would talk to Alphys, to see if there was something in that hidden lab of hers that could rid them of their determination. No determination, no resets, and wouldn’t it be just grand if they could get their seventh soul? Wouldn’t it be grand just to leave the Underground for good? Surely she had something in that lab of hers… if he could just take a peek around, maybe he could find it himself. He thought for a moment, trying to recall what the inside looked like, trying to visualize a destination for his shortcut. But he couldn’t. _I was sure I’d been inside… I talked to Alphys when Paps and I were…_

 _When Paps and I were moving to Snowdin,_ he realized. And boy, was that a long time ago. Had he even been inside? He had just talked to her at the door, hadn’t he? _But I’ve been in that lab. The Hotland Laboratory… I know I’ve spent time in there. But when?_ He glanced around his workshop again, considering the reset logs, but dismissed the idea quickly. It had to have been before Frisk fell.

* * *

_“H-hello? Who a-are you?”_

_“It’s Sans, Alphys. Let me in?”_

_“I- I don’t- I don’t know anyone named Sans.”_

_“Alphys, seriously, I know we’ve only spent a year together, but I’m not that forgettable, am I?”_

_“C- c- can you just go a- away? I’m kind o- of busy.”_

_“Alphys I know you love your work, and I know you know I love slacking off, but I need to get some things. Paps and I are moving to Snowdin. I forgot to tell you.”_

_“I- I don’t know you, Mr. Sans.”_

_“Aw, c’mon, it’s just Sans.”_

_“I’m going to shut the d- door now. I’m really very- very busy.”_

* * *

He snapped out of the memory, staring at the wall in confusion. When did they have that conversation? When had Alphys not known who he was? He slammed a fist against the counter and gave up; he’d probably never know the rest, just like with all of his memories.

After fulfilling his obligations in Snowdin, he left the kid alone, satisfied that they had left Papyrus in the same condition they had found him, and made his way to the capital. The city was crowded and dingy amongst the streets, but the cavern ceilings still glittered with crystals, and the old monsters would stare up wistfully, no doubt comparing them to the stars they had looked upon, long, long ago.

He weaved his way through the crowds, sights set on Asgore’s castle. He supposed he could have gone through the core as Frisk always did, but he didn’t particularly feel up to having to identify himself to every single mercenary and worker, so he chose the bustling city instead, where he could blend into the crowds. Monsters of nearly every kind flocked here, as most were unsuited for the harsh cold of Snowdin, the searing heat of Hotland, or the dampness of Waterfall. He felt happier here, he noticed. Perhaps it was the simple knowledge that all these monsters were safe, albeit not the happiest, and alive. Perhaps it was knowing that even if his life and state of mind were left in tatters, everyone else could go on in blissful ignorance. He supposed he envied many of these monsters as well, especially the ones that could chatter on without a care in the world.

“Look at this gorgeous accessory I got, Juni! These two girls near MTT Resort sold it to me. Isn’t it great?”

Sans looked over to find a pair of monsters sitting on a bench. One of them was holding out her wrist, showing the other what seemed to be some sort of watch.

“It’s kind of beat up, isn’t it?”  
  
“No, silly, it’s vintage! They said it was from the surface. I suppose it’d be nice if it did something, instead of just displaying the number twenty-one, but aside from that, it’s my new favorite!”

He shook his head, chuckling at the monsters’ fascination with things from the surface. He supposed he had been that fascinated, too, before Frisk fell, but like everything else, any surprises concerning the surface were lost to the resets.

He surprised Asgore with his arrival, startling him from his silent stance amongst the flowers.

“Howdy, Sans. What brings you here today?” He asked, crossing the gap between them. Upon looking at the expression on Sans’ face, he added, “Is there something the matter?”

“Yeah, I wanted to ask about a, uh, a policy change.”

“A policy change,” the king echoed.

“Yeah, you see, there’s a human in the Underground-” He paused as Asgore visibly flinched and his expression shifted to sorrowful. “And, y’know, I was thinking it’d be… beneficial for everyone if you’d let me stop them… now. Sooner, rather than later, y’know?”

“Sans, we agreed when you took your position as judge-”  
  
“I know, I know. But, uh, I’ve just got a feeling about this one. I think it’d be better just to cut them off now. You know we’ve lost monsters in the past to the old policy. Undyne lost her eye to the old policy. I thought it might be time for a change.”

“I have tried to be as fair to these humans as I can. I have spent countless hours rationalizing their deaths, Sans. I cannot authorize them to be killed before they prove themselves. I cannot kill an innocent child.”

“Aren’t they all innocent? And what about Undyne? And the Royal Guard? What are they for if not to kill them?”

Asgore’s eyes flashed, a look of anger coming across his face for the briefest of moments. “The Royal Guard's orders were to bring me humans - alive. They seem to have forgotten that over the years. And to answer your other question: no, they are not. That is the purpose of a judge. No human has ever received a judgement of completely innocent. Every one that has made it to their judgement has been responsible for the death of at least one monster.”

“How many have made it to their judgement? I’ve never had to judge one.”

The king sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly. “Two,” he breathed, so quiet that even Sans could barely hear him.

“Two? What happened to the others?”

“I am sure you have heard the stories. Do not make me repeat them, please.”

“To _patella_ you the truth,” he began.

Asgore simply gave him an impatient glare in response. Perhaps now wasn’t the time for jokes, Sans considered.

“I’ve only heard about the ones Gerson killed. I was, well, uh, I was there for the fifth one, and I’ve heard about the fourth one, but something doesn’t sit quite right with me about that story. It just seems kinda… I don’t know. Fabricated, I guess. I don’t know if it’s true, but it’s all I’ve heard. Honest.”

“I don’t suppose you would be content to leave without hearing the stories, would you?”

“Well, I could, but I think I’d need some sort of compensation. Maybe something along the lines of a policy change?”

“Remind me again why I chose you as my judge?”

“There was _no body_ better.”

“Sans.”

“Because I was perfectly content not interfering with anything. Guess people change, huh? So, are you gonna tell me or not?”

“You will not bug me about a policy change if I do?”

“Yeah, sure. I suppose that’s a fair trade.”

"I have only killed two humans.”

Sans’ eyes widened. For all the rumors and reputation surrounding the king, he figured that the ones killed by Gerson were the only ones not killed by Asgore. “What happened to the others?”

“I will get to that. The first two humans who fell were brought to me by the guard. The first had killed only a monster who she could not get to leave her alone. She hefted a pan at them, acting out of what she must have presumed was self defense. The royal guard in Hotland brought her to me and my judge, the one before you. She had killed only the one monster, but my edict was in place. All humans had to die. She did not even fight back as I slaughtered her.

“The second was dangerous. He sought out monsters, picking fights with them as they went. Sometimes he’d let them go, other times they would crumble to dust in his hands. He was a slippery one, but after he killed the sister of one of the canine unit, they teamed up and brought him here, half dead. I hesitated, but the dogs demanded justice, and I believe I told myself that killing them at that point was an act of mercy.

“The third was dead before I ever saw them. You know how I so dearly love to walk around the Underground, taking peaceful strolls and visiting with others. It is how I met our beloved Undyne, as I walked near her school. But there was a walk in Waterfall, where I noticed a shadow behind the largest of the falls. I went to investigate, and found a small cave. Inside was a young girl in a tutu, dirty and huddled in the corner. She did not appear hurt at all, but when I went to wake her, she fell limp in my grasp. Her body was frail and falling apart, and I left her, returning only to store her soul. After her soul was safe, I carried the body back to the castle, hidden under my cloak.

“The fourth and fifth you know of, as Gerson presented me with the fourth soul, and allowed Undyne to present me with the fifth. The sixth was another matter, however. It was during another one of my strolls. I was walking in Snowdin Forest when I came across the door to the Ruins. I knew my wife left me because of this war on humans, and I knew she would not want to see me again. But I knocked on the door, anyhow. There was no response, but as I turned to walk away, the door opened. A tiny human - a child - emerged from it. I was conflicted, in that moment, as I was in all the others, but I had a policy to uphold - a policy I am not changing. I was going to leave; I was going to wait for them to make it to me in my castle, but before I could even look away, they collapsed in the snow. Their soul was so weak, Sans. Had I not been so meticulously careful in extracting it, it would have shattered in my hands. Their body was covered in burn marks, and I could not help but wonder if it was my wife who had done this.

“I brought the poor child to the castle, and decided that the humans should be given a burial with respect; I owed them that, at least. So I had coffins built, one for each fallen human, just like I did for Chara, and I transferred what was left of the bodies to an unused room in my castle. I don’t go there any longer, but if you wish to see them for whatever reason, they are to the left of this room as you leave. Please, Sans, you have heard the stories; now leave me be.”

Sans could not say he was satisfied with the outcome of his visit. He had not gotten a policy change, and had contributed nothing but sadness to the king. The stories of the humans sparked a faint memory, and it came rushing back to him all at once.

* * *

_“Wa ha ha, welcome to my shop, skeletons! What can I do ya for?”_

_“We’re, uh, just passing through. But, I guess if we’re here, we could-”_

_“WE ARE ON OUR WAY TO SNOWDIN TOWN! WHAT ARE THOSE?” Papyrus had asked, pointing at a tub behind the old turtle._

_“Those’re crab apples. Heal 18 HP. Interested?”_

_“Uh, we really don’t have that much money to spare. We were just looking around. We’ll get out of your way.”_

_“Nonsense, son! You both look mighty tired, how about a nice chat and a Sea Tea? It’s on the house.”_

_“Oh, uh, I mean, we should really be-”_

_“WAIT, SANS, THE SIGN SAID ‘GERSON’S’. ARE YOU REALLY GERSON?”_

_“Wa ha ha! That’s me! The Ol’ Hammer of Justice, they called me!”_

_“BUT IF YOU ARE HERE, WHO IS THE LEADER OF THE ROYAL GUARD?”_

_“Eh, we’re in a bit of a lull there. I was gettin’ too old for the job, so Ol’ King Fluffybuns is taking over, I guess. Never did see the need for a separate leader, but it sure paid well, wahaha!”_

_“Hey! Gerson! Gerson!” A voice had captured the attention of all three monsters as a little girl ran up. “Guess what: I beat up a punk at school today!”_

_“Wahay! Good job, kid! What’d they do to deserve it this time?” Gerson had asked, his demeanor softening._

_“Punk made fun of my hair!” The girl had replied. Atop her head sat a huge ponytail of red hair, puffed up and wild._

_“Defendin’ your honor? I like it, wa ha ha!”_

_“You gonna tell me a story today?”_

_“Sure, why not!” He had turned to regard Sans and Papyrus again and told them they could stay if they wanted. Sans hadn’t wanted to, but Papyrus insisted._

_“Alright, sit down, chilluns. I’ve got a great one for ya this time. It’s about a human._

_“I was takin’ a walk through Waterfall, listening to the echo flowers and searching the grass for anything to sell, when I saw movement in a patch of tall grass. At first, I thought it was just some kids playin’ hide and seek or whatever the fad is these days, but when I got close, it was a human!”_ _  
_

_The little girl had gasped in delight and leaned forward, totally captivated by the story._

_“It was writing in a notebook and wiping its glasses on its shirt every once in a while. Now, I couldn’t see just what it was writing, but I think they were writing about a monster they had killed!”_

_Sans had been glad that Papyrus seemed to have lost interest and was, by this point, contently playing with a bug in the corner._

_“So I confronted it, and we had a long and hard battle, but finally, I captured it, and gave it to Asgore. I kept my spoils, don’t you worry!” He said, pulling out a torn and shriveled notebook and a pair of foggy glasses. The girl was still fascinated, and reached out to hold the items. Sans, however, had been bored and ready to leave, until he heard the girl make another remark._

_“What, that’s it? Where’s the passion - the violence? What attacks did you use, how did you defeat them? You always tell me more than that!”_

_“I’m gettin’ old, missy! You can’t expect me to remember every little detail, wa ha ha!”_

_When he had thought about it, the girl was right. The story did seem to be lacking in, well, any sort of detail or credibility. The only proof this guy had was the items, and he could have gotten those from the garbage dump._

_“We’re, uh,” he spoke up, grabbing Papyrus from the corner, “going to head out now. Thanks for the story.”_

_“Safe travels, young’uns!”_

* * *

What had been wrong with Gerson’s story? Or, more importantly, why was he so sure that something was wrong with it? It felt as though he knew a different version of the same story from somewhere else, but could not recall where. _The notebook and glasses felt so familiar, though. Where did they really come from?_

As he readied himself to check on Frisk, the world slowed again, and he found himself back in bed. 

* * *

_Not another one, no more, please. The cracks are taking over, please, please stop._

* * *

Not wanting to lose any memories of his conversation with Asgore, he wasted no time in getting to his workshop and writing before going to meet the kid. These times around, if he didn’t know why they reset, he didn’t bother asking. It wasn’t like he could change anything, so what was the point in crowding his head with more knowledge? Their journey through Snowdin was becoming more consistent, and he felt confident enough that he could leave them earlier rather than later. After taking them to Grillby’s and downing his nth bottle of ketchup just to complete a joke, he made his way to the telescope and waited.

Just as he put the finishing touches on the red ink, Frisk walked up, visibly shaken.

“Woah, kiddo, you’re not looking too good. Undyne got you scared?”

**Sans, can I ask you something?**

“Sure, kid, shoot.”

**Do you know anything about W.D. Gaster?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I cannot believe how long this chapter got, especially since I was first struggling to hit the 3000 word mark! Anyhow, I think I'm going to permanently move updates to Sundays, as Saturday is when most of this gets written due to my busy schedule! Well, thanks for reading!  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	6. G A S T E R

“What did you say?” His voice came out slow, a low hum that gave way to fear and intrigue. He watched their hands, the letters forming impossibly slow as his mind tried to process what it could not fathom

**G A S T E R**

“I don’t- it’s- I can’t-” he stammered out, his head spinning a million miles per hour. He knew the name; he had definitely heard it before, but where? The word reverberated through his mind, bouncing off every thought until it hit an empty space - a gap. It wasn’t just a memory missing; it wasn’t just something he had lost to time; there was _nothing there._ _Gaster, Gaster, Gaster_ , where had he heard it; why had he heard it?

He could feel the child’s eyes on him, boring into his being and scrutinizing every action, every twitch, every darting of eyes or shifting of fingers; he could feel their gaze worrying, watching him, begging him to say something, anything, but he couldn’t. The name was foreign, was _wrong_ ; he could not understand why his mind recoiled from the very mention of it; _what_ did he know?

“H- how do you… know that na- ame?” he sputtered.

**There was a hallway before this room. It wasn’t there before, Sans, not in any other reset! And in the past few resets there have been these monsters, these weird, washed out, grey monsters, and they talked about Gaster. They said he was the royal scientist. And in that hallway there was a door to this small little room, but inside was this weird figure; it was like he was there, but also wasn’t - I could walk right through him! He was all white and black, tall and thin, but he was hunched over real weird-like. He was bent over his hands - his hands had holes in them! His face was all messed up, like it was falling apart. I tried to talk to him, but he just disappeared. Who is he, Sans?**

“I’m- kid, I’m sorry. I don’t- can’t- know, it’s just-” he stopped abruptly to wince and rub at the sudden pain behind his eyesocket. _What is it? What are you trying to tell me?_

* * *

“ _How do his hands move?”_

_“What?”_

_“His hands - how do they move with those holes in them?”_ _  
_

_“They just… move? I really don’t know what you’re asking here, bud.”_

_“It’s just that - here, Sans, take my hand. Put your fingers here, around my palm. Feel that movement when I wiggle my fingers?”_

_“Yeah, what are you-”_

_“Those are my muscles and joints. If you took a big circle out of my hand, I wouldn’t be able to move it because I’d be missing some. How do his move?”_ _  
_

_“You’re literally talking to a skeleton, and you’re asking how someone can move without muscles?”_

_“Oh, shut up.”_

* * *

He staggered, bracing himself against the wall as he rode out the wave of pain. Where had that scene come from? _Who was I talking to?_ He tried to run a mental list of every monster he’d ever met, but came up with nothing. _Even if it were one of the monsters with muscles, they wouldn’t ask a question like that. That was a human hand; I was talking to a human._ He righted himself, waving away the concerned child stepping toward him.

“It’s okay kid, s’all fine.”

**Sans, you don’t look fine.**

“Wow, first you break my brain and now you’re insulting my looks? Harsh, kid.”

**Sans, just tell me: who is Gaster? You know something, and it’s hurting you!**

“I think it’s the thinking that’s hurting me, kiddo. Haven’t done any of that for a while, I guess,” he said, winking.

Frisk did not look convinced. **Sans, you’re acting weird. Don’t you want answers? What if Gaster is the key to everything down here?**

“Kid,” he pleaded, pressing his hand to his head again. “Can ya just stop saying the name?”

**Sans, does it hurt? To remember him?**

“I’ll let you know if I ever do,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Just go on, have your adventure. Maybe you’ll even get us out this time,” he spat.

It was cold and rude, but he really couldn’t be bothered to care, at this point.

**Sans, why can’t you remember things?**

“Maybe it has something to do with a certain person manipulating time. Maybe it’s because I’ve been forced to live parts of the same week over, and over, and over again just to satisfy someone’s curiosity.”

 **Do you mean me?** Their eyebrows were knitted together, their face scrunched in confusion.

“No, I mean Papyrus- of course I mean you!”

**Sans, you had trouble remembering before this started up again.**

“And that is relevant because..?”

**Do you really not remember? I only reset three times.**

“Not funny, kid.”

**I’m being serious. I came down here, and I accidentally killed a few monsters. I reset and got everyone to the surface, but then I got curious, so I reset again and… you know… but after selling my soul to Chara I came back and we went up to the surface. We stayed there for six years, and then… well… this.**

“That can’t be right. I have seen you murder my family, my friends, more times than I want to count. Why did you think I had such horrible nightmares on the surface? You think I was scarred by seeing it _once_? Try hundreds, and hundreds of times.”

**I promise you, Sans. There was only three resets. Four timelines. I really, truly promise.**

They didn’t give him a chance to reply. They bid him goodbye with a small wave, and walked off, glancing back every so often. Before they were too far away, they stopped and turned around, signing something he almost didn’t catch.

**Maybe you’ll remember Gaster if you think about it more?**

_Goddammit, kid,_ he thought as the pain and vertigo returned.

* * *

_“Okay, okay, sorry. How about a proper introduction? I’m Sans, Sans the Skeleton.”_

_“I- I’m Alphys, Asgore’s Royal Scientist.”_

_“Royal Scientist? What about Gaster?”_

_“Wh- who?”_

_“G- nevermind. Why did Asgore hire you?”_

_“I- I mean, who else w- would it be?”_

_“Wait, how old are you?”_

_“I- I’m- is that, um, p-pertinent? … I’m - I know it’s young, s- so don’t u- um, judge me- e. I’m fi-fifteen.”_

_“Okay, what did you do before this?”_

_“I mostly just worked o- on proj- jects in secret. I made a- a, uh- a robot, w- with a soul. A-asgore was really impressed, so he h- hired me.”_

_“You weren’t, y’know, an assistant to the old scientist?”_

_“I d- don’t even know who the ol- the old scientist was. N- no one really t- talks about them.”_

_“So you, uh, don’t have a lab assistant?”_

_“N- no, and I, um, I don’t need one. I’m not- not hiring o- or anything, s-sorry. Can you, um, l- leave me alone n- now?”_

* * *

Alphys had honestly not remembered him. But, then again, why should she? That was the piece he was missing - why had he thought she would? How did he know her when she didn’t know him? _It must be related to Gaster,_ he thought, wincing again at the name. _Everything is coming back to him, but I don’t even know who he is. All these memories, all these feelings - why were they triggered by his name if none of them contain him?_

He slammed his hand into the wall, causing a shift in the rocks and a startled “was that a star?” from a nearby monster. He had to remember _something._ The memories, the knowledge - it couldn’t just be gone, could it? He resolved to retreat to his workshop, to see if something in there sparked anything with his newfound catalyst.

He appeared in the dark and fumbled for the lightswitch, flooding the room in harsh white. Nothing seemed different. Nothing jumped out and clicked into place next to the name, and nothing seemed out of place. Everything was exactly as he had left it and exactly as he had always seen it. He sighed in frustration, his elbows finding the counter as he slouched over. His fingers fumbled with the edges of the blueprints again, the worn edges brushing his bones. They were strange, to say the least. The writing was unreadable to him; half was in what he could amount to nothing more than chicken scratch and the rest written in some sort of shorthand he didn’t recognize. He scanned the pages once more, scrutinizing the drawings and glancing back at the machine every once in a while. Nothing. At the top of the page, he noticed, was a small chunk of writing, separate from everything else and seemingly out of place. It had no pointers to the drawings and no notation whatsoever. But he could read it. It wasn’t really reading, per se, but rather an instinct that washed over him. Either way, he knew what it said… or at least some of it.

 ****  
**F̢͔̼̺͇̞͎͓͖̍̇́Ǫ̢̟̟͇̙͙̺͓̩͛̓̋̇ͣ̓́Ŕ̩͍̥͎͓̹͆̎͋͗ͥͮ̉͢ ̡̡̘͈̯ͪ͢ ̟̫̟̩̲͕̦͇̈̆ͮͦ͛ͮ̓ͭṚ̝͈̼̱̬ͭͩ̾͛́̎̃ͣ̕E̵̸͍̹͔ͪͩ̚̚͜S̜͔̮̬͚͔̠͎͛͜Ě̶͎̲͚̭̳̰͓̒̄͐̊ͦ̀̕À̡̜͍͔̲̦̞̲͓̍̚R̵͓̃̍͒ͨ͊̓͘͘C͈̼̙͖̠̺̣̩ͣ͆͋͘͡H͚̼̓́ͫ͞ ̨̫̩͒͠ ͨͮ̚҉͘ͅỈ̗̩̰̜ͣ̕͠Ņ̷̛͎͉̈̓ͬ͌ͦ̓̃͑͛ͅ ̛̠̫̩̏̅͆̾ ͣ̓̆̿͗͏͕͚͝S͓̺͕͍̙̱̩̭̽̐ͬ̅͝Y͍̲̙̖ͥ͗̈́͑́͘Ş̵͍̺̓̌ͩͦ̏͜T̶͇̰̥̗̾̒̌̾̆E̵͇͍͕̟̍ͬ̓ͪ̉ͪ͌͑̃ͅM̶̡̟̬̫̲̔͒̏ͫͯ́͐̋̄̀S̢̨̳̲̖̬̈́̑̊ ̷̟͔̦̰͕͓̘̔͆ͦͯͬ͛ ̱͎͖̞ͬͭ̌͐̓͐͊O̺͚͎̦̦̓͑͘F̟̮͙͖͍̂͜ ͍̜̼̬͔̳͚̩̆ͣͮ͐ͣ̂̅ ͇̻̲̬̇̃̚͠͞T̴͖͙͖̝̗̉ͧͦ̂͂̔̏I̡͙̖͎͗ͮ͌̀M̸̛̻͉̮̞̠͊͋͐ͦ̑ͧ͌̕Ě̵̹̙̦̪̠̰̘͒͡-̨̮̬͕͚̥̝͗ͥ̽S̰̣̱̓́̇͋ͦ͌̋͂̀P̶̯̭͖̺̼͖̩̦͗͊̂̄̕ͅÄ̛̛̛̤̥̱͈̝͖̻̥͂͗̐̚ͅC̣̙͉̤̯͙̈̂̆̉̕͞ͅEͤ̐̔́҉̖̙** ****  
**͈̫͈̪̱͍̤̻ͪͧ̓̾̾̊M̧̘̣͚͍̘͑͌̕A̵̹͔̻͆̈̀ͣ̔́Ç̶̤̞̺̘͛͠H̵͈̝͓̠͎̬̽͆̆͛̑͛͟I̛̟̻͈̩̹̖̜̐̈ͨ̇͢Ǹ̢̼̥͌̽̽̆̇ͥE̷̥̖̯͎͎͇̪ͯͦͭ͂͂ͦͮͦ ̷̴͎̬͙̜͑̑ͅ ͖͎̠͎̈ͣͮ͜͡F̻̓ͤ͒̈ͯO̬̳͛͑̊ͧ͌̌͊̆͑͜͠Ṛ̱͔̥̼͙̏̇ͩ̓̽́ͫͮ̑͡͠ͅ ̷̯̥̉̌ͩ̌ͪ ͧͮ͐͏̯̞̩̺̳̠R̗̳͒ͩ̾Ȇ̘͗͂̈̅̏͊M̷͚͗̑̎̀O͉̦̝̱̻̥̟̥̐ͫ̌̌̕͡ͅT̟̜̠̫̲̮̺͓̉͋͝Ė̑͌͑͌̚҉̱̠̫̘̘ ͉̰̭̫̠̖͓͙̃ͯ̔ͬ̍̀ͅ ̬͕̤̰̠́̿͐E̩̫͉ͪͦ͝Ẋ̠̻̫̓ͥ͋ͣ̍̓̐͡͞ͅP̛͍͈͐̄ͣ̽́͠E̷͖͐͗ͬͣ͋ͧR̴̤͎̣̰͉͉̞ͨ̃̐ͬ͊ͪ͆ͬͅĪ͇̙̺̹̜̠̾̋͝M̪͚͛ͭ͒̽͘͠E̡͓̪͉̗̠̦̬̯̓ͪͦͤ̽N͔̥̹̈́̂̄ͭ̎͠Tͪ̀̇̓̓̌ͦ͐͏̱̳͕̪Ạ̪͍̥̘̤͛̈́̂ͨ̽͢L͓͕̳̜͎̉̑̏̆̈́͑̑ͤ ̨͍̟̜̜̙̭̈ͮ̐̂̓ͤ̚ ̭̃̏ͪ̄̚͡ͅU̶̳̦̗̒͋ͣ̇̚͟S̡̙͈̻̘̜̦̠̻ͧË̴̛̗̖̟̣̙̬̼̱̪́ͬ́̽ͦ̃ͣ ̀̑̈́͑͊̇̈̇̚҉͈̺͎̙͇̬͙̯ ̵̙͔̬̘̻͈̀̀͢O̮̲ͤ̋ͪͨ́̋ͫ̆ͣ͟N̵̨͎̯̩̘̱̟͔̘̼̈́̽̿̉ͮͯ͞L̢ͦ́͂͏̼̠̰̪͉̙͟Y̹͓̮̥͕͕ͣͥ͐͌ͪ̂̓̏̕** **  
** **̦̭̭͖̤̥̜̍ͣͅD͑͏̸̘̱A̟͙͕͐ͨ̿̒ͬNͭͩͫ͌ͭ͂͏̰͙̠̱̰̭̳̲G̸̢̪̈́ͪ̄̊̉̃͐̚̕Ẹ̠͙̝̩̘̹̬̏͒̾ͪ̑͗́̅͟Ř͋ͤ̍ͪ̋̊̚҉͉͈̱̣͈̘̀͞ ̅ͭ̇͌ͨ͐͢҉̫̰ ͥͬ̂̿ͩ̉͡҉͈̳̹͈̰̗W̵ͩ̆͌̈́ͩͩ̀ͮ̈́͏̰̭̦** **Ắ̞̲ͮ͢͝R̹̲̟̩̻̱̃̐͡͞͡ͅN̯͖͚̉ͦ̉Ï҉̳̥͠Nͨ̈ͣ͑͌̇̄ͩ͘͏̼̹̫̗̞͕̟̥̠͞Ģ̻̾ͣ̀͒͂̕͝**  
**_  
_ ** ******_W.D. GASTER_**

He recoiled from the paper as though it were deadly, all the while staring at the writing. He had blueprints by this man, Gaster, in his house. That had to mean he _knew_ Gaster, didn’t it? How else would he have gotten his blueprints? The name was the only thing on the paper that was clear to him. Everything else was muddled and produced the same ache in his head as the pictures did.

 _The pictures._ Drawers flew open and the pictures came out, scattering across the countertop. He stared intently at them, searching for memories. Surprisingly, it was not the mystery pictures that he was drawn to. Instead, he found himself turning the pages of his photo album, flipping through pictures from the surface. _There are so many…_ _Frisk couldn’t possibly have reset only three times. Just look at all these successful timelines. But why would they lie to me about that? What do they gain from it?_

Carefully sliding each photo out from behind the plastic, he turned them all over, reading the notes written on the back. His heart sank. There was no indication of timelines repeating themselves over and over. In fact, only two titles were ever written on a photo. It was either the first or second time on the surface. There was nothing else - the kid was telling the truth.

But then why was he so tormented by dreams of his friends dying in a thousand horrible ways? Why was he so certain that his memories were lost amongst an inordinate amount of timelines?

He thought about what Frisk had said. The way they signed the name was so familiar, as though he had seen those exact letters signed out before him many times before. Gaster had to have something to do with his past. He considered, briefly, asking Papyrus about the name, but decided to save that for later. He would ask Papyrus only if no one else knew, since the name had something about it that felt dangerous; something about the name told him that the people who knew about it could be in trouble. He also decided to evaluate his conscience later.

It had been what he assumed to be close to three hours, and he still knew nothing about Gaster. The only progress he had made was the reducing of the name to a dull ache rather than a sharp pain in his skull. It was easily ignored, at this point. He was used to being alone, to being the only one who knew about some mystery, but he had expected that out of every monster in the Underground, _someone_ had to know about it. Like Alphys had evidently said at one point, no one really talked about the former scientist. Unlike she had said, however, no one even knew who he was. Still, he was reluctant to ask Papyrus.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t get much of a say in the matter, for as he was slouched on the couch, looking at but not really watching one of Mettaton’s shows, Papyrus’ voice stirred him from his thoughts.

“SANS, WHAT IS A ‘GASTER’?”

He froze, glancing at his brother from the corners of his eyes. “What did you, uh, where’d you hear that name, bro?”

“YOU HAVE ONLY BEEN MUTTERING IT FOR THE PAST TWENTY MINUTES. IT IS A NAME, THEN? WHO ARE THEY?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, bro. Why do you think I’ve been muttering about it?”

“IT SOUNDS FAMILIAR, BUT I CANNOT PLACE IT. IT IS MUCH LIKE THAT HUMAN! YOU SEEM TROUBLED, BROTHER. IS GASTER BOTHERING YOU?”

“I dunno who Gaster is, Paps. What makes you think they’re bothering me?”

“WELL, I WASN’T GOING TO SAY ANYTHING BECAUSE I WAS FINALLY GETTING SOME PEACE AND QUIET, BUT YOU HAVEN’T MADE A SINGLE PUN SINCE YOU GOT BACK FROM WATERFALL.

“Oh, y’know,” he covered quickly, “I was just giving you a break, ‘cause I could feel a storm coming your way. In fact, I’d say it’s _pun_ stoppable.”

“SANS…”

“I think some of them might even be _pun_ -in-a-million.”

“SANS, PLEASE.”

“What, you want to join me? Well, two heads are better than _pun._ ”

“SANS, I AM LEAVING IF YOU DO NOT STOP THESE SHENANIGANS.”

“Aw, are you really just going to cut and _pun?_ Can’t handle living in the _Pun_ derground anymore? I think Undyne might let you stay with her if that’s a challenge you want to _pun_ dertake.”

“SANS, STOP THAT. I KNOW YOU ARE CHANGING THE SUBJECT.”

He froze again, letting the next pun dissipate in his mouth. “What’dya mean, bro?” he asked carefully.

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE I HAVEN’T NOTICED? EVERY TIME YOU DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT SOMETHING, YOU START JOKING AROUND. IT’S VERY ANNOYING SANS AND…” He trailed off, a strange look coming across his face.

“And..?” Sans prompted.

Papyrus’ voice came out much quieter, a stark contrast from his usual exuberance. “And it makes me worried. About you. You’re getting the look again.”

“What look?”  
  
“The expression you used to wear before you would go to Grillby’s and… drink… a lot.”

Met with only silence from Sans, Papyrus continued, his voice growing louder again.

“I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY HE LETS YOU HAVE THAT STUFF ANYMORE. HE KNOWS WHAT HAPPENS, I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS. I KNOW YOU… YOU CAN’T HELP IT, BUT HE COULD! IT JUST MAKES ME… angry… or sad… I’m not sure… but it’s not a happy feeling, and I don’t like it.”

“Paps, I-”

“I don’t want your excuses, Sans! I want you to promise that you’ll stop! I want you to promise that you’ll AT LEAST TRY!”

“It’s not that simple, Paps, I have a lot-”

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS THAT MAKES YOU SO SAD, BUT I KNOW YOU HAVE A LOT OF THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT, SO JUST TRY AND FOCUS ON THOSE! THAT’S WHAT I DO!”

“Paps,” he said, holding up a hand to silence his brother. “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t just choose to be happy. Don’t you think I would if I could? I have tried, and I failed. Why bother trying again if it’s just going to end up the same?”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT IT WILL.”

“Trust me, I know. I can’t be fixed, okay? Not by me and not by you. Just give up; I did.”

“Sans, as your brother, I know I can help-”

“Did you ever think that maybe you’re part of the problem?” he snapped. “That maybe I cracked under the pressure of having to care for someone when I was _fourteen_?” It took a moment for what he had said to sink in, and he immediately stumbled to cover himself as Papyrus’ expression shifted. “Shit- crap- I mean, Paps, it’s not your fault. I just meant- it’s hard, okay- I can’t be as strong as you all the time. I mean, I don’t understand you. We woke up and had no clue how we had come to be where we were. How are you so happy all the time? We didn’t know what family meant besides each other. It was stressful. I just wanted to protect you, but all I’ve managed to do is push you away, huh?”

“SANS…” he paused, taking a moment to lower his voice back into a serious tone. “I wonder about our past, too, you know. Monsters all around us talk about their families - their parents - and it makes me… jealous. I don’t understand why we don’t know anything about them.” He falls silent for a moment, but then perks up, realization crossing his features. “WAIT, BROTHER, DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THEM?”

“Paps, I would have told you if I did… you know that, right?”

“I SUPPOSE… I JUST GOT QUITE EXCITED AT THE PROSPECT. SO IF WE CANNOT TALK ABOUT OUR PASTS, WHAT SHALL WE DISCUSS NEXT, BROTHER? IT MAKES ME QUITE HAPPY FOR US TO SPEAK OPENLY.”

“I,uh, have to go, Paps. I’m working on a… research… thing.”

Papyrus gasped, clasping his hands together. “YOU ARE WORKING ON A SCIENCE PROJECT? SEE, THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY, AND YOU’RE DOING IT! YOU AREN’T A LOST CAUSE, BROTHER, YOU JUST HAVE TO BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!”

“I do believe, Paps,” he said quietly, pulling the somber mood back as he walked out the door. “I believe I’m unfixable.” _And there’s no mysterious blueprints for fixing me,_ he added in his head.

He had to ask Asgore. Asgore hired Alphys, so he must have thought about Gaster at some point, right? If not Asgore, there were plenty of monsters in the capital; someone must know something. He did not take his time walking to the capital, instead choosing to hop a shortcut right into the throne room. Asgore wasn’t there. He shrugged and made his way to the streets, cutting through the crowds.

“Look at this gorgeous accessory I got, Juni! These two girls near MTT Resort sold it to me. Isn’t it great?”

Sans looked up, a sense of deja vu washing over him. A pair of monsters he didn’t recognize sat on a bench. One of them was holding out her wrist, showing the other something.

“It’s kind of beat up, isn’t it?”  
  
“No, silly, it’s vintage! They said it was from the surface. I suppose it’d be nice if it did something, instead of just displaying the number twenty, but aside from that, it’s my new favorite!”

 _No, that wasn’t right._ Sans stared at the exchange long enough for one of them to notice and tell him to take a picture. “Sorry,” he said, stepping closer. “What number did you say it displayed?”

“Twenty. Do you know anyone who knows how to fix these things? I was going to ask Alphys but she said she was busy.”

“Twenty? Not twenty-one?”

“Dude, come on, she said twenty. Like, leave us alone,” the other one piped in.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, turning to leave. Something about that felt seriously wrong. He had seen that before, heard that before, but it was definitely 21, wasn’t it? Maybe it was something he should jot down before the kid reset again. Realizing he hadn’t written down anything from this timeline yet, he reappeared in his workshop, getting out another piece of paper. After pausing for a moment to look at the old papers, he labeled it and began to write.

_**Reset 118 - Gaster is the key. He was the old royal scientist, and I have something to do with him. Alphys is involved too somehow? He wrote the blueprints and designed the machine. Monster in the capital has human thing that says 20?? I thought it was 21. Paps got really mad at me again this timeline. No one knows who Gaster is. Paps says it sounds familiar. Frisk only reset 3 times before all of this, but I know there’s more to this. There has to be.** _

Satisfied for the time being, he arrived back in the capital, seeking Asgore again. He found him in the throne room, chatting with Undyne.

“Oh, howdy, Sans! What brings you here?”

“Hey,” Undyne said, shifting around in impatience.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something? I can come back…”

“Not at all! Undyne and I were simply discussing old times. Did you want to speak to me about something?”

He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he wanted Undyne to hear, but decided that if two of them were there, there was double the chance of someone knowing something about Gaster. “Do you know anything about W.D. Gaster?”

Confusion creased the king’s features, and Undyne looked unfazed. “No, I do not believe I do. The Underground is a large place, and though I try, I cannot know everyone. Tell me about them.”

“That’s the thing: they’re sort of… a mystery. No one I talk to seems to know anything. There’s only one person, and they told me he was the old Royal Scientist.”

There was a pause, hesitation lingering heavily in the air and coating the atmosphere is tension. “The old Royal Scientist was in an accident,” Asgore said after a while.

“So he’s dead?”

“No…” Asgore frowned. “Honestly, I cannot remember the outcome. I feel as though he simply retired and went to live somewhere else.”

“What happened?”  
  
“I… cannot remember that, either. Do you know anything about this, Undyne?”

“I don’t keep up with nerdy crap! I’m not really into science. I guess I am a little bit… but I don’t know anything about the old scientist… or that much about the current one… we’re just kinda friends… I guess.” She glanced at Sans, whose grin had grown just a little bit wider. It was funny, no matter how many times he saw it, to see Undyne and Alphys try to deny feelings for each other.

“Ah, well, thanks anyway. Say, any updates on that human wandering around?”

Undyne’s cheeks grew red, and she glanced away. So she’d fought them already. “They’re, uh, still en route to the castle. I don’t think the little punk is very dangerous, fuhuhu!” she added, perking up. “They didn’t even fight me; they just ran away! This guy here,” she continued, jerking a thumb at Sans, “was no help at all! He was just sleeping at his station - the human ran right past him! I dunno how you can keep hiring this guy.”

Sans jumped in before Asgore could speak, hoping he’d catch the hint. “What can I say? I make my sentry stations comfortable.”

“I don’t hire sentries," Asgore said slowly. Sans sighed in relief. "That is a position loosely related to the Royal Guard. Are you not the one hiring him, Undyne?”

“No? I hired his brother, but he actually works. This guy just does the absolute bare minimum every time… but somehow I don’t think it’s enough to be grounds for firing him?”

“Hey, come on, Undyne. You know my name isn’t just ‘This Guy’.”

“Oh, right, it’s ‘Papyrus’ Brother’,” she retorted.

“Children, please,” Asgore laughed.

Sans watched the king curiously. It was strange, knowing he knew things about other monsters that they perhaps did not even know, themselves. He had seen the way Asgore had nearly broken as he talked about the humans - had seen the remorse and guilt in his eyes - but no one would suspect it, looking at him as he was now.

“Hey, Undyne,” he said suddenly, lowering his voice as Asgore had turned to tend the flowers. “Weird question, but what do you remember? About your eye, I mean.”

“Oh, that? I lost it in a stupid stunt. My friends and I were daring each other to put magic into human junk, to see what would happen, and something kind of… exploded.”

“I thought you lost it in a fight with a human.”

“A human?” She scoffed. “You think I’ve fought a human before today? Hell no! Closest I’ve come to a human was when Gerson let me present Asgore with a soul, but I wasn’t there, or anything. Man, that would have been so COOL if I was!”

“What do you remember… about me? Like, how we met.”

“I mean, I met you at a Royal Guard meeting just before I became captain, I remember that. But we never really talked much... or interacted. You told me about Papyrus once or twice, but just in passing conversation, like when I was assigned to the same area as one of your stations. Why are you asking about all this? Do you think I’m losing my memory or something? Are you calling me old, punk? You’re older than me!”

“Nevermind,” Sans said, despite the curiosity burning in his mind. “I’ve just been thinking about the past.”

There was a long pause, wherein neither monster knew what to say, and Asgore’s cheerful whistling was the only sound to be heard.

“Well,” he said suddenly, “thanks anyway, I guess. I better head back.” He turned to leave before stopping. “My next break is starting soon,” he added with a wink.

“Yeah, I oughta get going, too,” Undyne announced. “Papyrus has a cooking lesson in a few minutes!”

Both Sans and Asgore looked at the fish monster in confusion. “A few minutes?” Asgore finally asked. “How will you get there in a few minutes?”

Undyne looked back, her expression seeming to say, “duh, how else?” and then she smiled. “I’m going to run,” she said, already taking off.

Asgore simply laughed. “I remember her training sessions. She always was determined and stubborn.”

“Yeah,” Sans mumbled. “She certainly can be determined.”

He took the long route back to Snowdin, stopping in with Alphys to see where the human was. When he arrived back at his house, Undyne and Papyrus were standing outside.

“WAIT, UNDYNE. IF THE R STANDS FOR RED… WHAT COLOR DOES THE L STAND FOR?”

Despite the phone in Papyrus’ hand, the two seemed to be talking more to each other than whoever was on the line. It was probably Frisk, and Sans had to wonder why they continued to call the two goofballs, since, as far as he knew, they were basically no help.

“Uhhhh… Light green.”

“OH! OF COURSE!” Papyrus cried, pulling the phone closer again. Before he said anything, he turned back to Undyne. “WAIT. ISN’T THAT TWO WORDS?”

“Light sea green,” Sans said, strolling up to the pair.

Papyrus looked a bit disgruntled, and replied, “THREE DOESN’T FIX THE ISSUE!” He turned back to the phone and started speaking again. “NOW, HUMAN-”

“I think you hung up, Papyrus! Or maybe they did. How dare they! Do they think they’re too cool for us? I’ll get that punk!”

“UNDYNE, I THOUGHT YOU AND THE HUMAN WERE FRIENDS NOW.”

“I’ll get them in a friend way?”

The phone rang again, and before Papyrus could say anything, Sans chimed in again. “Light sea foam green.”

His brother turned to regard him, speaking in a voice with a very clear undertone of “go away”. “AREN’T YOU WORKING IN THE VERY NEXT ROOM!?”

Sans flinched slightly, but walked away, reappearing behind the station in Hotland. He could hear the muffled voices of Papyrus and Undyne through the phone as the kid walked up. They seemed to be debating how many stations he had, and he chuckled as they finally hung up.

“Hey buddy, what’s up? Wanna buy a hot dog? It’s only 30G.”

Frisk nodded, reaching into their pockets and pulling out a handful of coins. He had a brief flash of memory as they handed them over, something about being respectful of traditions, but dismissed it, handing them a hot dog.

“Thanks, kid. Here’s your ‘dog.” Seeing that the child was staring at him, he sighed and continued, knowing what they wanted to hear. “Yeah. ‘dog. Apostrophe-dog. It’s short for hot-dog.”

They pulled out more coins and set them on the counter. “Another h’dog? Here you go… whoops,” he added, handing them the package, “I’m actually out of hot dogs. You can have a hot cat instead.”

“What? Another ‘dog? Coming right up… you really like hot animals, don’t you?” He laughed at the kid’s expression, continuing, “Hey, I’m not judging. I’d be out of a job without folks like you.”

Frisk tilted their head slightly, their lips parting and hands raising as though they wanted to say something, but decided not to.

“What? I said a job, not all my jobs.” He winked as they turned to walk away, and he thought he caught an eye-roll directed his way. _Well, they certainly kept their personality from the surface,_ he thought.

His thoughts drifted back to Gaster as he watched them leave. He considered going around Hotland to see if he could find any of the mysterious monsters who had told Frisk about him in the first place, but he had the nagging suspicion that they were gone for good now. Something stirred within him, and for a moment, he thought he heard the name being spoken aloud. He looked around quickly, jolting from his trance. “What did you say?” He asked no one in particular.

“I didn’t say anything,” a bird-monster nearby chirped as a Vulkin said, “Toasty bun!”

He sat back down, retreating into his thoughts again.

* * *

_“Gaster.”_

_“What?” The voice was small and quiet, but he somehow recognized it as his own._

_“Your Uncle Gaster - Uncle Wing Ding. You and Papyrus are going to go-” the voice broke off in a fit of magic gone haywire, breaking and humming. “You’re going to go live with him, in Hotland, okay? He’ll take good care of you.”_

_There was a hand resting on his cheek, its thumb rubbing small circles against his bones._

_“But I want to stay here, with you!”_

_“I know, darling, I know,” the voice said, growing quieter and weaker by the moment. “But it’s what’s best for you and your brother. You remember your uncle, right? You like him. He’s a scientist, remember? I bet he’ll teach you all about it.”_

_“What about you and Dad? When can we see you?”_

_“Sans, we’re going to say goodbye, okay? Wing Ding will take good care of you. You’re going to go tonight, okay? You can pack your things, right? And Papyrus’? Wing Ding will be here tonight to pick you up, okay?”_

_“I don’t want to leave you! Why do I have to?”_

_“Sans, there are some things we can’t control, okay? We want you and Russy to live long and happy lives, okay? You have to trust us, please. We won’t be around to help you much longer - Wing Ding will be.”_

_“Come here, my boy, give me a hug. I love you, okay? You know that, right? Me and your father, we love you very much, y’know. He’s very tired, but he might wake up if you want to say goodbye. You can go try. It’s okay.”_

_“Why do I have to say goodbye? I don’t understand!”_

_“It’s okay, Sans. It’s okay.”_

* * *

He opened his eyes, gasping, and promptly took a shortcut back to his workshop, frantically adding the memory to the paper. _What was that?_

His mind answered for him, even though the logical answer made the least sense. _That was my childhood - those were my parents!_ _Why… why didn’t I remember that before?_

He was fully aware that he was now having a conversation with himself in his head, and he was fully aware how crazy it made him feel, but he ignored it.

_Maybe you didn’t want to remember it._

_Why wouldn’t I?_ _  
_

_Think about it. What was happening there?_

_They were…_ Realization slammed into him like a wall, and he gasped again. _They were sick… they were dying. We were going to live with Gaster… Gaster is our uncle?_

He stood there for a moment, basking in the memory and reaching for anything else, but there was nothing. He stared at the paper, mulling over his newfound information. _What do I tell Paps? He’s always held out hope that our family is out there somewhere, just waiting to be found. Should I really tell him that our parents are dead and the only other family we know of apparently doesn’t exist?_

He buried his face in his hands as he felt the world slow again. For the first time in a while, he again began to wish that he could just forget everything and start clean with each reset, just like everyone else. His life would certainly be a lot simpler, and his mind would certainly be a lot less broken if he could.

* * *

_The cracks webbed the surface, and a piece began to flake away, hanging on by only the barest of threads._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, I dunno how this keeps happening. I worry about being able to write 5000 words by the time Sunday rolls around, but then I find myself cutting off the planned chapter timeline just to be able to post on time. This chapter had like three more things it was supposed to reveal, but I guess you'll just have to wait a week for that ;). We're closing in on the big reveal, so stay tuned!  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	7. Going Back

He had been standing in the doorway of their kitchen for longer than he should have.

“SANS, WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME? ARE YOU INTERESTED IN COOKING LESSONS?! WOWIE, I COULD TEACH YOU TO MAKE SOMETHING OTHER THAN YOUR ABSURD QUICHES!”

“What? No, no I don’t…” he trailed off as his eyes met those of his brother. “Yeah, Paps, you can teach me sometime… just not right now.”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU STANDING THERE LIKE A LAZYBONES? WHY DON’T YOU GO DO ONE OF YOUR JOBS IF YOU HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO DO?”

“I am doing my job. I’m on a break.” It wasn’t a lie; he was on a break, just not one from a job. He wanted to think he was on a break from life - a break from thinking. He hadn’t bothered to go down to his workshop yet; he didn’t need to read the notes from the last timeline to remember what he had uncovered. It was as though he had destroyed the lock on a door in his mind, and not even going back in time would fix it.

_No, I won’t think about that now. I don’t have answers; what good is it going to do me to dwell on the questions?_

He was vaguely aware of Papyrus’ continued chattering, but he had long since tuned it out. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, or didn’t try, he couldn’t help but circle back around to the mysteries of his past - to Gaster.

There were still things missing from his memories - he was well aware of that - but that wouldn’t stop him from trying to solve each one like a puzzle (or, at least, a non-Papyrus puzzle). He had been going over it in his mind since he woke up, his work organized into neat little modules of his mind - questions without answers tucked neatly away until it was time to let them consume him once more. Unfortunately, it was that time. He closed his eyes and let his mind skim the list of the unknown, trying not to acknowledge how much longer it was than the list of things he did know.

_1.Why does nobody remember Gaster? 2. Why do I remember Gaster? 3. Why/when did Alphys not remember me? 4. Why do I have Gaster’s machine? 5. What exactly happened to my parents? 6. Why did Undyne tell me she lost her eye in a stunt? 7. Why did that human artifact seem so wrong to me? 8. Who was I talking to about Gaster’s hands? 9. Why doesn’t Gerson’s story make sense to me? 10. Why was Grillby left handed? Is Grillby left handed? 11. Why…_

He decided to stop, realizing that dwelling on the questions was doing far more harm to his current mental state than it was good.He turned and headed out the door, calling back, “I’m headed to Grillby’s,” in reply to Papyrus’ questioning shouts.

Entering the establishment almost made him feel sick. He looked around at its patrons, each and every one oblivious to their predicament - oblivious to the lives that had potentially been starting, or ending, in other timelines. It was disorienting and tiring, to say the least, to constantly keep up the charade of surprise; to face them time after time and pretend that he did not know every word they were going to say so long as he said all the same things, as well.

It was really not an existence worth living, he would realize when he really thought about it, but what was the alternative? Who would be the watcher of the child - who would encourage them to stay in control, to keep going - if not him? In the times which he thought about this, he would also ponder the idea of whether or not the child even needed someone to guide and encourage them. The answer he came up with most often: probably not; they had their determination for that. So he began to ask a different question - a rather more sinister question, but he supposed that was what his function was amounting to. Who would strike fear into the heart of the child - who would hold the child responsible for their actions - if not him?

But most of all, it was a lonely existence. Other monsters became uninteresting after a while, akin to the reruns of Mettaton’s old shows, and he found himself bored with life. The only trouble was he was beginning to lose the relief the resets provided him. Had he not grown accustomed to the feeling - had he not adapted to unconsciously preserve his memories - the resets might have been a blessing, a way to fix his mistakes and explore his curiosity, much like Frisk. But the resets could no longer wipe away the memories of guilt and regret that burrowed deep within his soul. _He_ could not rationalize his sins away in the lost memories of everyone else. _He_ was stuck with the guilt of whatever he had done, even if the full memories weren’t there.

It was surprising that, even after all this time, he had not grown used to the feeling of guilt. It had first taken root in a time beyond where his memories reached, so he should have accepted that he could never repent for something he did not know about. But he refused. He had spent time after time evaluating others’ wrongdoings, even going so far as to urge one person in particular to fix them, so who was he to leave his own to simmer? The trouble was that Frisk could fix theirs. Their mistakes were within the limits of their power over the world, able to be reset and redone at will. His mistakes stretched further, into the past. The past was an interesting concept to him, as he had many to choose from. Was the past the previous timelines, or was the past what happened before Frisk fell? He could debate that both were the past and were not the past at the same time, but he decided that, much like most things, he would leave it alone. But the question still burned in his mind: if no one remembered the things he had done, were they still wrong?

He did not believe he was above consequences. Never before had he dared to believe that anyone could escape with impunity the things they had done. But, recently, the thought had glimmered in his mind with the knowledge that all memory of the things he had done was gone, ripped from the earth by impossibilities in time. No one remembered; there was no proof - why couldn’t he just forget about them and let the guilt go? He wondered, often, what Frisk managed to do with the weight of their sins. In conjunction, he wondered why they had never tried to kill him first. Surely they could still make it to the surface without him, and he was the only thing standing between them and a release of guilt. He was the only one holding them accountable - he was their reminder - so why not just take him out?

He guessed that was the greatest similarity between monsters and humans. Though love, hope, and compassion seemed to be optional, guilt was not. Looking at the child, one would likely say they carried more than their fair share of burdens. But if most of the burdens were related to their guilt, did that not make it exactly their fair share? Sure, they were a child, but that didn’t change what they had done. From what Sans could piece together, they could hardly blame Chara for their first act of genocide. It sounded as though Chara had absolutely no control over Frisk until they sold their soul, which meant that the ‘innocent’ and ‘poor’ child had voluntarily chosen to hunt down every monster they could find - and for what? Curiosity?. They were not a ‘poor thing’ in his eyes. To Sans, they were a pitiful thing - someone who had lost whatever goodness they may have possessed and were still searching in the dark, blinded by the things they had done in the process of getting it back.

His thread of consciousness was snapped by a clattering and a loud yipping to his left. Something had either gone terribly awry or terribly great in the dogs’ poker game, and chaos was erupting in their little corner. He chuckled, but only a little, both amused by and jealous of the carefree way in which they could lead their lives. Approaching the counter, he gave a nod of greeting to Grillby, who turned to regard him. His watch was tucked neatly into the left pocket, just as Sans had always remembered. Normally, he was cautious about revealing things from other timelines, but he simply could not help himself.

“I thought you told me you were left-handed.”

“... Sans, what are you talking about now?”

“Ah, nevermind, Grillbz. What’s up?”

“... I am running the restaurant, as usual. Sans, do you want something?”

Again not knowing what came over him, he could not stop himself from blurting out, “Does the name ‘Gaster’ mean anything to you?”

The elemental paused and the flames of his face flickered slightly. Sans liked to imagine that on any other monster, it would have been a blink.

“... No. I can’t say it sounds familiar. Simply having lived a long time does not grant me automatic knowledge of every monster in the Underground.”

“Woah, okay, cool your flames.” Sans held his hands up in surrender, “Forget I said anything. How ‘bout an order of fries, though?” As the monster walked away, Sans could not help but wonder why everyone suddenly became so defensive or uncomfortable after the name was mentioned. Granted, he, too, became defensive, but he figured it was probably for a different reason that everyone else.

Sans, though not a believer in many other superstitions, believed that names had power. After all, his initial reaction to Frisk revealing their encounters with Chara was to anxiously ask if they should be saying the name. He figured this was a pretty appropriate reaction, considering Frisk had called them “the demon that comes when you call its name”. He had quickly learned that Frisk did not fear the name because Chara had already been called, and hadn’t made any effort to leave yet. From what he had seen, there were obviously some mysterious forces at work involving Gaster - his name obviously held some sort of power. In contemplating the reactions of others, he began to wonder if that power was simply instilling fear. Everyone feared the unknown, at least in some capacity, didn’t they? Even Alphys and her fascination for understanding everything was, he suspected, driven by fear. If she understood it, she wouldn’t need to fear it anymore.

Maybe he was afraid. Maybe that was what this feeling was. It occurred to him that even through every reset, he had not felt truly afraid. Perhaps he had been afraid of Papyrus getting killed, but was that really fear? It wasn’t the anticipation of it that kept him up at night - it was the memory. As he watched them trek through snowy forests, he was never afraid that they would kill his brother, rather he was just… hopeful that they wouldn’t. He had never been afraid when they approached him in the corridor… just hopeless. He was not brave, in any sense of the word, because for him to be brave he would first need a fear to face. Perhaps this was what the feeling was. Perhaps he was afraid of Gaster, and perhaps he was afraid of his past.

The thing about his past was that he had thought he knew it. When speaking of the past as the things before Frisk fell - the things that could not be changed - he had thought he knew enough to piece together a coherent timeline, or at least after he and Papyrus woke up with no family. But now his memories were being scrambled, the familiarity of the past dwindling. He did not know where he had come from; he did not know who he was. Most of all, he did not know how he had woken up without any memory of his past. Granted, he had never known, but it was now more pressing, somehow, that he find out.

He had always remembered that day in far from perfect detail. He had attributed it to time passing and taking the memory with it naturally rather than ripping it from his mind through determination. But now, as with everything else, he was noticing gaps in the logic - pieces of memory that didn’t make sense. He suspected they could be filled with Gaster.

* * *

_“SANS, WHERE ARE YOU GOING? AREN’T YOU GOING TO HELP PACK?”_

_“Pack? Paps, what are you talking about? I’m going to… to work.”_

_“YOU DON’T HAVE A JOB, SANS!”_  
  
“Yeah I do? I work… I work for… I have a job.”

_“HMPH. YOU SAID WE WOULD PACK TODAY.”_

_“Pack for what, Paps? Where are we going?”_

_“SANS!! STOP MESSING WITH ME! YOU JUST TOLD ME YESTERDAY THAT WE WOULD MOVE TO SNOWDIN.”_

_“Move… to Snowdin? Paps, why would we do that? He wouldn’t like it if we moved.”_

_“WHO??”_  
  
“He- we can’t move, Paps.”

_“BUT I WAS EXCITED! I WANTED TO SEE THE SNOW! ALL YOU EVER LET ME DO IS GO TO SCHOOL AND SIT IN THIS STUPID APARTMENT.”_

_“I don’t control you, Paps, it’s G- it’s our- it’s not my decision.”_

_“OH MY GOD, SANS! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST BE NORMAL, YOU’RE BEING WEIRD.YOU PROMISED WE WOULD MOVE!”_

_“Paps! Listen to me! We can’t move - how would we make any money?”_

_“WE COULD GET JOBS?”_

_“Yeah, sure, Paps. Every monster I know is just jumping at the chance to hire a seven-year-old kid.”_

_“YOU SAID YOU HAVE A JOB.”_

_“Yeah, well, I’m older than you… and it’s not so much a job as it is an apprenticeship. G teaches me about science and I help him out. I don’t actually get paid, y’know. He already does enough for us.”_

_“SANS WHO ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”_

_“Look, Paps, I’m gonna be late if I keep chattering with you. You don’t have school today, right? So just… I don’t know… just go do something, yeah? I’ll come back for lunch with you.”_

_“FINE. BUT YOU BETTER BE ON TIME.”_

_“Will do, bro.”_

_He had tried to take a shortcut to the lab, but ended up adding another five minutes to the trip by mistake. He dug through his pockets for his badge, but found nothing. Shrugging, he knocked on the thick glass doors instead._

_“J- just a minute! I m- meant to remove that badge lock, but I’ve be- been too busy!”_

_He had thought it strange that Alphys was instructed to remove the security mechanism on the lab. Even if monster criminals were few and far between, Sans had been sure his boss liked the lab kept locked._

_The door had slid open, and then closed nearly all the way, leaving a crack for him to speak through. He had caught Alphys’ eye through the slit, and had been about to speak, when she spoke instead._

_“H- hello? Who a- are you?”_

* * *

He started at the realization, jostling his basket of fries and earning a quizzical glance from a few of the other customers. He waved them away and stared at the counter-top, stunned by his thoughts. His most recently discovered memories had almost all seemed isolated - snippets of unidentifiable times of the past. But now they were connecting - now, he could begin to understand.

* * *

_“SANS? WOWIE! YOU’RE EARLY! … WHY ARE YOU EARLY?”_

_“You’re right. Pack up. We’re going to Snowdin.”_

_“REALLY! NYEH! I KNEW IT. YOU WERE PLAYING ONE OF YOUR JOKES ON ME.”_

_“Yeah, sure, Paps, a joke. Start packing. We leave today.”_

_“WHY ARE WE IN SUCH A HURRY?”_

_Sans hadn’t wanted to tell Papyrus the truth - he never did, anyways, so what was one more lie? He couldn’t alarm the child. He couldn’t tell him that he wasn’t sure if they even lived here anymore. They had to leave. He knew that. He couldn’t get into the lab - Alphys didn’t remember him or… or… or Gaster (Gaster? Gaster.) and he couldn’t contact him either. He wasn’t anywhere, according to every indicator Sans could think of._

_“I’m just real excited, Pap. C’mon, I bet I can pack faster than you.”_

_“NUH-UH! I AM THE SUPERIOR STUFF-PACKER!”_

* * *

_“To Snowdin, please.”_

_“Then we’re off. Tra la la. Beware of the man who speaks in hands.”_

* * *

_A distant voice broke through his daze, thankfully. He had only learned to understand the gestures through the help of the voice, and was still rubbish at it. But as watched the hands and listened to the voice, he almost wished it wasn’t there._

_“_ **_You_ ** _You_ **_are_ ** _are_ **_nothing_ ** _nothing_ **_but_ ** _but_ **_a_ ** _a_ **_disappointment_ ** _disappointment.”_

* * *

_"WHERE ARE YOU GOING NOW, SANS?”_

_“I have some things I need to do. Why don’t you play with the other kids? Have some fun in the snow or something.”_

_“WHEN WILL YOU BE BACK?”_

_“I don’t know. Soon?”_

_“BE SAFE, BROTHER!”_

_“Will do, Paps.”_

* * *

_He was alone. Of that much, he was certain. He had watched Alphys leave before entering the lab. He had rationalized that it wasn’t so much a crime, or anything. He hadn’t broken anything - just entered. He’d put everything back where it was before he left. He just needed to see inside. For once, his shortcuts had taken him exactly where he wanted to go, even if his only guidance was a distant and foggy memory._

_He wandered the dark halls as though they were familiar, but recognized nothing. The dingy tile brought no memories, and the screens on the walls were all switched off, frozen in a sleepy state. His wandering was not aimless, however; it was rather more like browsing than wandering. Wandering implied you did not have a clear goal - browsing was just something you did on the way to your goal. He was looking, examining, scrutinizing every detail of his surroundings. The halls felt safe - familiar - though any memory of why was lost to him._

_The rooms did not feel as safe. A chill ran down his spine each time he entered one of the smaller side rooms, even if they looked homier than anything he had. But he couldn’t just not go in the rooms. He was on a mission - a hunt - and he would find what he came for._

_In one of the rooms sat a hoard of large objects - failed prototypes, he guessed - collecting dust even under their cloth or plastic coverings. Alphys had made short work of clearing out the old scientist’s inventions. Sans picked his way through the forest of machinery, careful not to jostle anything, until he came to a shelf overflowing with blueprints. Many were crossed out or scribbled over, jagged ‘X’s and ‘FAILURE’s obscuring the original design, but a few were rolled or folded cleanly. He unfolded one, scanning the page under the light from his eye. After studying the page for a few minutes, he folded it back up and continued on, still clutching the paper in his fingers._

_He came to one particular heap of metal and wiring that was humming with magic, as though it was only recently worked on. Flipping one side of its curtain up, he became even more intrigued. This was most certainly the machine he had been looking at the blueprints for. He stood there, admiring it for a moment, wanting to understand what it was for, since whoever made the blueprints was clearly not fond of labeling things._

_It was while he was lodged halfway inside the machine that footsteps down the hall perked his attention, and he froze. A stuttered ‘hello’ confirmed that it was Alphys, and he cursed, trying to pull himself free so he could hide. When he was rewarded with no luck, he closed his eyes and prayed to anything and everything he could think of, and he focused everything he had on picturing his room._

_He did reappear in his room, but his plan didn’t go off completely without a hitch. While he was safely out of the lab and back in his new home, he was also still in the machine. First, he panicked. His whole plan to escape the confines of the machine was based on it staying put. Second, he stopped panicking and simply tried again, which resulted in his eventual, albeit scratchy, escape._

_He later stashed the stolen goods away in their basement, not allowing Papyrus to go near. Something about its continued hum of magic was off-putting, and if it was dangerous, he could be sure as hell that he would be the only one going near it._

* * *

_“SANS, WHERE DID YOU GO?”_

_“To visit an old friend.”_

_“CAN I COME NEXT TIME?”_

_“Sure, Paps. But I don’t know when next time will be.”_

* * *

_“Wa ha ha! What’re you doing back here? Snowdin too cold for you?”_

_“Nah, the cold goes right through me. I came because you seem to know a lot of monsters, and I was wondering if you knew anyone that was hiring. I sorta… need a job.”_

_“Hmm… no one that I know of, but why d’ya need a job? Can’t you just mooch off your parents like all the other little kiddos ‘round here?”_

_“No, no, it’s just me and my bro. Look, if you could just think again - you have to have heard something.”_

_“No, I don’t reckon I have- the Royal Guard’s lacking in members, but I don’t think you’re up for that.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“What?”_

_“How do I join?”_

_The old turtle eyed Sans curiously, and Sans realized he was sizing him up - checking his stats. He shrunk back a little, embarrassed._

_When Gerson found what he was looking for, he spoke with an anger Sans had not heard before._ _“You don’t. No way would I even think about letting you in.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“You know exactly why. One HP? You’d get killed the instant a human saw you. I can’t be responsible for the death of a little kid.”_

_“I’m not a kid! And it’s not your decision, is it? You told me the king was in charge of the Guard now. I’ll just go to the capital and ask him.”_

_“Ha! You’d make a fool of yourself, kid. Asgore challenges every one of his members to combat before hiring them. Little Undyne challenged him just last week - she’ll be a good warrior, that girl - and she couldn’t hit him when he wasn’t even fighting back. Besides, you don’t really want to be in the Royal Guard, do you? You just want a job that pays.”_

_He nodded, perhaps feeling a bit guilty._

_“Tell you what, kid. I’ll talk to Ol’ Fluffybuns about creating a new post. We’ll call it a sentry. You can sit out there and watch for humans, and you call a member of the Guard if one actually comes along, eh? That way, you get a job, and I don’t get the guilt of sending a kid to their death.”_

_“I’m not a- sorry. Thanks, Gerson.”_

* * *

_“Woah, sorry, didn’t see you there!”_

_“S’fine. I’m kinda lacking in the height department.”_

_“Fuhuhu, yeah! Do I know you? You look familiar.”_

_“I think we met a while ago. My brother and I were passing through Gerson’s shop.”_

_A smattering of blush spread across her cheeks. “Oh, yeah, right. Man, I was an annoying kid, huh?”_

_Sans chuckled. “You’re Undyne, right?”_

_“The one and only! I’m gonna be captain of the Royal Guard! … well, I will be in a few years. Asgore says I’m really coming along in training!”_

_“Asgore trains the members of the Guard? I thought he just challenged them.”_

_“Well, yeah, but not me! I’m his little protégé, fuhuhu! Just last week I managed to knock him down twice in a match!”_

_A deep voice rumbled from beside the two monsters. “It’s unbecoming of a captain to brag, Undyne. Who is your friend?”_

_“This is… um…”_

_“The name’s Sans.”_

_“Well, howdy, Sans. What brings you to this meeting?”_

_Ignoring the stifled laughter from Undyne, he replied, “I’m a sentry. I’ve never come to one of these before, and Gerson told me I should.”_

_“Ah, so you are the one he asked me to create such a position for. I suppose I should thank you - we’ve got some great guards in the making, thanks to those posts. Have you met Dogamy and Dogaressa? Oh, nevermind. I apologize, but I must address the crowd. Would you speak with me after the meeting?”_

_“Uh… sure?”_

* * *

_“I’ve been receiving reports of a certain sentry who doesn’t do much work, is sleeping on the job, etc. Would that happen to be you?”_

_“Oh, uh, wow. This is embarrassing. I, uh-”_

_“Do not be embarrassed. It is a quality that does not serve much purpose in common life, but I have a proposition for you.”_

_“Huh? You aren’t firing me?”_

_“On the contrary - I wanted to offer you another job. Have you heard of the Underground’s judge?”_

_“No..? Should I have?”_

_“I suppose not. It was always more of a secretive position. Our previous judge has passed on - not because of the position; she was quite old. The judge’s purpose is to observe and pass judgement - particularly on humans. They must be content not to interfere - to allow the human to make their own decisions. You seem content enough doing nothing.”_

_“Hey, a job where I don’t do anything? I’m in.”_

_“There is one other purpose the judge serves, and it is a troubling one. Should a human come through who is so terrible that the Underground is left devoid of hope, the judge will invoke Karmic Retribution upon them.”_

_“Karmic-what-now?”_

_“It is an ancient magic - one you would need to study if you hope to take this position - that allows for damage to be inflicted upon a soul based on how high the soul’s LOVE is. I do not expect, and I do not hope, that you would ever have to use this skill, but we must be prepared. Are you interested?”_

_“Hey, it sounds like the perfect job for me.”_

_“Splendid. I just have to check your stats for my records-”_

_“Oh, that. Look, there’s, uh, something you should know.”_

_“Hm?”_

_“I look… pretty weak. I dunno why - my brother’s crazy strong, even at his young age, but I ended up… like this. Don’t worry about me in battle, though. Learning to live like this… I’ve gotten pretty good at dodging.”_

_“I will put my trust in you, Sans. Do not let me down.”_

* * *

_There was something in the snow - something small and bright amidst a pile of dust and red cloth. Sans stared at it - whether out of curiosity or horror, he did not know._

* * *

_“Do you want my soul?”_

_“Do I - what?”_

_“You said you needed souls to break the barrier. Do you want mine?”_

_“What you’re offering - I can’t take that. That’s death. I can’t do that to you.”_

_“Why not? Wouldn’t it help so many monsters?”_

_“I promised you I’d keep you safe. I intend to keep that promise.”_

* * *

The memories were flying through his head fast, so fast, making it so he could barely process them. A whirlwind of images and snippets of conversation danced around his mind, dizzying and awe-inspiring until they all landed on one image.

* * *

_He was peering through a door just barely ajar. The only thing he could see was a pair of slender and shiny black shoes making soft clicks against the floor at as leisurely a pace as he had ever seen them. They were approaching his hiding place, he soon realized. He turned, whipping his head around and motioning frantically to_

* * *

CRACK.

He opened his eyes, pupils blinking back into existence. At first, he wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking at, but it soon became apparent that it was the ceiling of Grillby’s - and he was on the floor. He lay there for a moment, dazed by his memories but likely also his fall. For a second, he couldn’t believe it. He had legitimately fallen off his barstool. _What kind of an idiot does that?_ At that point, he became aware of a few monsters leaning over and asking if he was okay, so he sat up and waved them away, scrambling to his feet.

As soon as he was sure that he was okay, he bolted, taking off through the door and leaving a gaggle of confused monsters and a basket of lukewarm fries behind.

He could not breathe - not that he needed to breathe, but he figured this was what it felt like to not be able to breathe. It felt like something was constricting his soul and pressing in on his skull from every side. He could not take it. He began to run, taking shortcuts to anywhere he could think of, trying to escape the disorientation and pain.

He found himself in the capital, sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. When he came to his senses, he noticed a familiar voice cutting through the air.

“I suppose it’d be nice if it did something, instead of just displaying the number nineteen, but aside from that, it’s my new favorite!”

 _Nineteen. Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen. It’s counting down with each reset._ He peered at the thing from the surface, trying to determine what made it so special. _What happens when it reaches 0?_

The world around him slowed again, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hold on to everything he had just remembered.

* * *

_Enough, enough, enough! They cannot keep doing this; they mustn’t keep doing this!_

* * *

He waited for them to approach him once more. The number was two when they started, but it must be down to one by now. In one timeline, he had noticed that it went down after they jumped back to a save point ten or fifteen times. They had certainly been attacking him here for long enough. He pulled a scrap of fabric from his pocket, rubbing his thumb over the brown material. It had been Papyrus’. It had been brown - not the royal red it always was, but a dull, dusty brown color. Frisk had asked him about it, but he couldn’t give them an answer. He had wanted to ask about it, too, but had known that Papyrus would only say that it had always been brown.

The child drew near, the knife glinting in their hands. The battle was no different than it always was - they slashed, he dodged, and he watched Karmic Retribution rip their life from them as they stood. Finally, he stopped. “Friendship… it’s really great, right? Let’s quit fighting.”

The knife in their hand still twitched, poised for a strike, but their face told a different story. With a quivering lip, they spoke, their voice quiet and strained. “Sans. I can’t do it - I try and I try but they just take over. They fill my mind with anger, and I don’t know how to fight it.”

“Kid, do you know how many times you’ve reset since we came back down here?”

They shook their head.

“One-hundred and thirty-seven. Yeah. It’s a lot, isn’t it? You think you can just make your mistakes and try over and over again, that a reset is a safety net for you to fall back on. Well, let’s just say you’re going to have to try real hard next time. ‘Cause I feel like your next timeline is the last. I can’t really explain it, but just keep that in mind, capiche?”

They didn’t move, and so he snapped his fingers, pulling a bed of bones through the child’s flesh.

“One more chance, kiddo. Make it count,” he said just before the world froze again, leaving his gaze locked upon their bleeding body.

* * *

_At a glance, it would seem broken beyond repair. The cracks were too deep and the holes too large. But it held on. It would always hold on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably noticed that I gave the chapter count an end. 9 is just an estimate, and it most definitely will not have more than 10 chapters... I think. There's still a fair bit to cover, so I'm not sure if I'll reveal it all in one longer chapter or split it up into the usual ~5000 word chunks. Either way, the end is near, and I want to thank you guys for putting up with my crazy writing. I know I'm very long-winded and philosophical sometimes, but I really hope you've managed to enjoy some aspect of this story. I have really enjoyed writing it thus far, and I intend to continue writing similar stories for other characters (but not nearly as long. This is the longest thing I've ever written).  
> Anyway, thank you again for sticking with it this far, and I hope you enjoy the ending next week or the week after that!  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	8. Dark, Darker, Yet Lighter

Sans had never been one for hope. He had lived his entire life surrounded by the hope of breaking the barrier and seeing the surface, but he had never experienced this hope. Now, of course, he could hope in the verb sense - it was quite often that he hoped someone would or wouldn’t do something - but that’s not really hope, is it? Such a feeling is more of a desire or a want, and this was the feeling Sans was used to. To him, hope was something you did, not something you had. He had never understood hope as an intangible thing - as some abstract concept that you hold onto just because you can. So, one could imagine his surprise when, as he stood in the shadowed corridor, he felt hopeless.

Not having hope and being hopeless were two completely different things. Hopeless implied that hope had been there at some point, or that there was a potential for hope to be had. But not having hope meant there was no connection to hope - whatever lifeline that hope could have provided was severed before it was cast out. So, one could imagine why feeling hopeless after a lifetime of not having hope would come as a surprise.

But the biggest surprise was the reason for his hopelessness. No matter how many times the kid managed to muck things up and reset, he had believed in them.  He hadn’t wanted to - it would have been so much more interesting if he could have just brought himself to slaughter them the moment they stepped into the forest - but he had. After all, he had spent quite a long time around the child, and it’s impossible to spend that much time with someone and not gain insight to who they really are.

So, yes, he was genuinely surprised that, even after his warning, the child had emerged from the Ruins covered in dust and oozing LOVE.

He had only bothered to stick around long enough to see Papyrus die, and he couldn’t honestly justify his reasons for doing so. Had he not learned his lesson the last hundred times he saw his brother die? He could not explain why he watched it every time and made no move to stop it. Maybe he was cowardly, or maybe Frisk’s perverse sense of acceptance had rubbed off on him. Either way, the fact remained that he no longer felt an intense rush of anger and seething rage. Instead, he felt like he was watching an old movie, replaying a favorite scene over and over again.

He wondered if this meant he had finally snapped. Perhaps this was the beginning stage of his insanity, and he would slowly devolve into an emotionless thing. _Like Frisk… like Chara… like whoever the fuck they are now. I can see the appeal now - how easy it must be to lose yourself completely - how nice it must feel to separate yourself from these pesky feelings._

 _Feelings._ His mind treated the word as though it were a toxin. The utter disgust in his inward tone shocked him back to reality, grounding him in his right mind. He couldn’t just give up feelings; even if he didn’t have a greatly varied range of them before, he still had them. Feelings - emotions - were all that were keeping him from going off the deep end. The kid didn’t have those much anymore, he suspected. That was the law of LOVE. The more one inflicts pain, the easier it gets, but one’s capacity to hurt cannot grow greater unless their capacity to feel grows smaller.

But, he realized, that in wondering whether or not he had gone crazy, he had answered his own question. After all, crazy people don’t think they’re crazy, do they? He hoped not. His brooding and contemplation were cut short by shuffling footsteps at the end of the hall. The child had arrived. When they approached, he hesitated - just for a moment. Here they were; the countdown had reached zero, but what now? He knew the number was at zero, but he did not know what that meant for the child, or for him, or for anyone. Were they simply unable to reset? Had time finally put its foot down and said, “tough luck, you made your choices,” or would they still be able to reset, but with catastrophic consequences? Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe the number didn’t mean anything.

But, then again, maybe it did.

He didn’t know what to do, this time around. His usual strategy was to try and spark the glimmer of a good person within them, but what good would that do if resetting was out of the question? Instead, he dodged and dodged, rattling off lines that were ingrained in his memory from the countless times he had recited them. Eventually, he stopped fighting back.

“Look, kid, you clearly didn’t trust me enough to take my advice, so I don’t know what happens after this. If you win, you keep going until you erase the world, and who knows what happens then? If I win, you try and reset, which we also don’t know the effects of. All I know is that something like that - it doesn’t count down for nothing. Whatever your resets are doing, something decided it had to stop. But you didn’t listen, and I don’t think you can fix your mistakes now, so who even cares? You’ve slaughtered, what, a fourth of us? You’ve ripped apart how many families, ruined how many lives? I didn’t bother to keep track for you this time, so I hope you can tell by all the sins crawling under your skin.

“I don’t know what happens next, so let’s just get it over with, huh? Make your choice, here and now. If you spare me, we both live, and we try and clean up this mess you made, huh? If you don’t… well, I’ve heard the human race has been responsible for the extinctions of species before, so what’s one more?

“Take your time, kiddo. I could stand here forever.”

The time they did take, though mere seconds, felt like eons, and in this time, Sans thought of the last time he saw Papyrus. He knew the child would kill him - they had killed everything else thus far - but, for once, he realized that Papyrus knew, too. Perhaps not to the same extent, but he had definitely known. Sans had memorized his brother’s stats a long time ago, both intent on questioning any changes and obsessing over how much weaker he was. But he had never thought to check them during the encounter. And what he had seen was just as interesting to him as every other mystery he was trying to solve.

_PAPYRUS 5 ATK 5 DEF_

Those were not the stats he remembered. For a second, he had chalked it up to memory loss - his memories weren’t exactly the most reliable, these days. But then it came rushing back to him: Papyrus did not like to fight. That was the whole thing about his stats that confused most monsters. It was why Undyne was reluctant to send him into any battles. His defense was usually 2. Sans thought about that a lot. It was a strange thing, the difference one measly defense point made. Everyone thought he would break and fall down at any moment, but they seemed to think Papyrus was safe enough.

Of course, there was always the possibility of Papyrus faking his stats; monsters did it all the time to seem more intimidating or to impress others (he happened to know Undyne did it quite often) .But Papyrus never did it. He was always proud of the stats he had, which left Sans with an even bigger revelation: his brother was far more powerful than he had thought.

It was common knowledge that if a monster offers mercy, if they don’t want to fight, then their defenses will weaken. But even in that moment of vulnerability and mercy, Papyrus had _raised_ his defense. He had known full well that the child planned to kill him, yet he had greeted them with acceptance and open arms. He had tried to prepare for their violence, but it simply hadn’t been enough. Sans considered that if he bothered to try, he could probably do the same, but decided it wouldn’t matter. The child’s LOVE was too high to be stopped. After a while, when LOVE finished pushing out emotions, it was all a numbers game, and theirs happened to be the highest.

So, he stood there, his measly stats out and honest, and waited for their decision.

He was answered with a knife.

It always felt different, he had noticed somewhere around the seventh time they had done it. Sometimes, it felt white hot against his bones, as though it were slicing up nerves he didn’t have at an agonizingly slow pace. Other times, it didn’t feel like much of anything, and was over before he knew what had happened. Unfortunately, this time was the former.

He took a step back, balancing himself, and, to even his own surprise, he chuckled. And he chuckled again. They were weak chuckles, wracked with hiccups of pain and impending death, but he was, in fact, laughing. He hadn’t thought the kid would actually go through with it. He had believed that, like most other times, they would break out of Chara’s hold and spare him. He was ready to call himself a fool, but his belief was then proven to be - at least somewhat - right.

A strangled cry burst from the child’s throat, nearly smothering the noise of a knife clattering to the ground. “Sans!”

They stood still, a horrified expression plastered onto their face, and began to sign.

Sans simply shook his head. His vision was going blurry; he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t even conjure up some fake blood like he always did. He had once theorized that if the child saw blood, as they would from a human, that they would better understand what their actions had done. He was never really sure if it had any effect.

Understanding, their voice filled the room once more, distorted and distant.

“Sans, I couldn’t break free in time. I know you said no resets, but I’ll just reload and try harder, okay?”

He tried to say no, tried to tell them that reloads were no different from resets, when you got down to their essence. But he couldn’t. The world was spinning and he could feel his body falling apart and he just wanted it to be _over._

And then the world shook. At first, he was sure only he had felt it, but Frisk’s frantic voice carried through the fog once more.

“It’s not working, Sans! I’m trying and nothing’s happening!”

And just like that, the world cracked open. Not the earth, or the floor, or anything, but the actual world. In front of them, about five feet in the air, sat a crack in space. It was filled with darkness, and that darkness seemed to curl outward, like shadowy tentacles reaching for light. Sans stayed frozen in both awe and pain, but Frisk seemed to be continuing in their attempts to reload. Seeing what they just saw, Sans wouldn’t have have been surprised if they were just trying to get rid of the awful thing, at this point.

But their attempts did not give way to success, and the more they tried, the more the world seemed to fall apart around them.

“Kid, just let it go,” he rasped, pressing one hand into the trembling ground to keep upright. This was when he heard the mumbling, the quiet murmurs of a wobbly child’s voice. “Reset, reset, start over, reset, reset…”

“Kid, no! You can’t know what’ll-” he was cut off by the slowing of time.

And then it resumed.

And slowed again.

And continued.

“Kiddo, I think you-” he doubled over in pain, feeling part of his ribs crumble to the ground. He eyed his HP. Not quite at zero, but getting there, slowly and painfully.

The world around him seemed to be splitting apart at the edges, darkness creeping in from every corner. He tried to find Frisk, but they were nowhere to be found, hidden behind some pillar of darkness… hopefully.

It was as he looked around that he saw them. Papyrus, Undyne, Tori - Toriel! That was her name and she was here! - they were all here. It was then he realized the irony of his situation. For all the times he had watched them die, they had never seen him die, and yet here they were. But how were they here? They were dead. He knew this. He knew he saw the child slaughter them or walk away covered in their dust. Through his haze he noticed something else. They were talking - not to him, and not to each other, or at least not directly. From what he could hear, Papyrus seemed to be speaking to him, but in some far away situation where he was telling him to get off the couch. Undyne seemed to be speaking to Papyrus, encouraging him during training. Toriel appeared to be fighting, but her magic disappeared inches from where it left her hands. There were other monsters here, too, but they were all doing the same thing - acting as though they were somewhere else.

He wanted to reach out to them, even if he wasn’t sure they could react to or even sense him. He wanted someone to reach out to him because for once in his miserable life he was really feeling something. He didn’t know what was happening. He was powerless. He was dying and he wouldn’t come back. He was afraid.

He didn’t want to be afraid; he didn’t like the feeling. But he was.  He was so afraid because the world as he knew it was falling apart and no matter where he looked, he could see nothing but the echoes of his friends, living and dying and laughing, and yet they were all so very far away. He became aware of Frisk’s distant voice calling his name, but could not respond. He could not do anything but stare at the darkness that was consuming the floor and walls and air around him. And in the darkness he saw a light. It was just a pinprick, and he gave a silent chuckle as he wondered if that was what his eyes looked like to others.

But the pinprick grew larger and larger, seeming to come closer and closer, until it began forming cracks in the darkness where light could seep through. Light and Dark battled for control, each one pushing the other back and reclaiming the world as its territory, until the room went blank. Sans was not entirely sure whether the world had gone impossibly bright or impossibly dark, but the effect was the same, he supposed. He could not see anything. He could not even hear anything. As far as he could tell, he was completely and utterly alone. It was then that he took comfort in the fact that he was dying, for it would mean release from whatever new hell this was.

And then he wasn’t alone. Within the void, something was forming, and as it took shape, the world began to come back. The golden pillars of the corridor came into view, and he was once again hunched over on the floor, a hand pressed to his chest, his bones dissolving into dust. He shut his eyes, willing it to just be _over._

And then there was something on his cheek - something warm and soft. He looked up, and found himself looking into the eyes of what he could only identify as a human. She was kneeling in front of him, cupping his face in one hand and pressing the other over his, to his chest.

When she spoke, it was a whisper, but at the same time sounded as though the voice came from all around him.

“My darling Comic Sans,” she said, looking him over. “Did you really think I’d let you go so easily?”

She knelt closer, pulling him into a hug, her arms wrapped under his and around his back. “Don’t worry,” she whispered again, “you don’t have to leave just yet.”

And as the words left her lips, he felt different. It felt as though water was flowing softly over his head and trickling down, cold and pleasant over his bones. And as he enjoyed the sensation, he realized he felt stronger. He realized his bones were not turning to dust - his HP was not dwindling. He was coming back.

At first, he panicked. He had seen, after all, what happened when monsters possessed determination, and that was just about the only thing that could bring him back, right?

But then, he noticed that he didn’t feel weak, or as though he was just barely holding on. He felt stronger - stronger than he had ever felt before. His HP had continued to rise, surpassing one and climbing. Two, three, four, five. It was a strange sensation, but he could not deny that it felt _great._ He pulled back from the girl’s embrace, standing and stepping around her. She was not his concern at the moment. Frisk - Chara - Frisk was. He called out to them, meandering around the pillars and cracks of darkness.

When he found them, he knew they were not the same. The malice had returned to their expression, color seeping into their eyes and cheeks. The world slowed, only for a second, and when it resumed, the child looked angry… beyond angry, even; they looked furious. They seemed to have abandoned all reason, and lunged at Sans empty-handed.

He felt his magic flare in both eyes. For a moment, he was startled, as he had never known what magic felt like in the right side of his face. But in the next moment, he grinned. It was a crooked, evil, power-hungry grin. He was not sure how he knew, but he was sure he could stop them now. He felt like his strength had increased tenfold, and tenfold again. It was a wonderful feeling, and he raised his hand to the child, a blue stop sign in their reign of terror.

“Now, now, kid. Let’s be civilized here. We wouldn’t want anyone to have a _bad time,_ now would we?”

Had he been viewing the scene from an outside perspective, he might not have even recognized his voice. But from within him, the bitter cold tone felt just right, especially when it was tinged with a little bit of laziness and a little malice of his own.

And it wasn’t just strength he felt. It was anger, and fear, and joy and _everything._ It was everything he had ever felt and it was extraordinary. The feelings were so vivid he imagined he could see them. He had never felt this way before. He had never felt this _much_ before.

He was vaguely aware of his name being called, though he couldn’t pinpoint who or even how many people were calling it. His vision would only focus on the child in front of him. And that child was in for one hell of a bad time. He could feel it clearly now - the pain, the suffering, the pure, unadulterated _hatred_ that burned within him - everything they had done to him that he was powerless to stop. But he was no longer powerless. He sent everything he had at them, whittling away their HP as bruises and gashes formed on their pathetic body. He knew they were at their end. Karmic Retribution had given up, waiting for his verdict on their life.

But before he could kill them, they changed. It was a subtle change, but it made all the difference in the world. There was no hostility in their eyes; they curled in on themself, appearing smaller; and they begged for mercy.

“Mercy? You want mercy? Did you give _them_ mercy?” he asked, sweeping a hand around the room. “Did they beg the same way you are now? Did you smile and continue on with your decimation, watching their pleading faces _crumble into dust?_ Or did you kill them silently, before they even had a chance?”

“Sans… please…”

“Do you think you are above consequences? You - especially you - are not. So bear with me, _kiddo_. I’ll make your last living moments...

“A b s o l u t e  h e l l.”

The child’s only response was to shut their eyes tightly, contorting their face into one Sans had seen only once before. Predictably, they began muttering again. “Reset, reset, reset, reset…”

And the world slowed. He stayed where he was, glaring at the child, as he waited for time to resume.

And it didn’t. At least, not for a while. They stayed locked in a standoff for what felt like forever, but, eventually, the world returned, and the first noise he heard was a shrill cry.

He whipped around, met with the girl on her knees, reaching out in front of her. Hovering just out of her reach, teasing her fingertips with its proximity, was a small, brown heart - her soul. He tilted his head slightly, curiosity breaking through as he studied the soul. It was covered in cracks, each one as dark as the blackness that invaded the corridor; the cracks left very little surface uninterrupted, and he wondered how he had even identified it as brown in the first place. From any greater of a distance, it surely would have seemed pitch black. As he stared at it, he felt calmer, somehow. As though the soul was absorbing the rage that emanated from his.

Her voice broke the current silence, echoing off the walls. “Frisk, no! You can’t reset, please! It’s too dangerous!”

It appeared that the child did not listen. The world slowed once more, and when it resumed its normal pace, he could do nothing but watch as the soul shattered, sending everyone flying to the floor, and its shards in every direction.

The darkness from the cracks spread across the air, connecting to the patches of darkness everywhere else. The web sprawled across the room, seeming to swell with every passing second, growing greater and greater until there was nothing left.

And then a void of nothing gave way to a whole lot of… something.

They were back in the corridor, but they were certainly not alone. A form had taken shape in the center of the room, tall and looming. Threads of darkness flowed from it like a cape, and thin, skeletal hands cupped a broken soul, holding its pieces together amidst darkness. An unnervingly smooth face peered down at it, its milky white color marred by jagged cracks in the surface. Though no movement came across the face, a quiet voice rang through the silence.

“Interesting… very interesting. Thank you.”

The figure released the soul, and it floated through the air, trembling and flaking apart again. Though Sans was not sure why he so strongly felt responsible for the soul, he reached out in a moment of desperation, surrounding it in a blue aura. The fragments turned blue, and spread further apart. Sans knew he should be focusing on the newcomer, but could not help pulling the soul closer to him, encasing it in his protection.

And then it happened. As the soul drew near his ribs, it began to shake. Before he could stop it, the soul fragments made a beeline for him, and were absorbed by his soul. He blinked, shocked, and when his eyes opened, he could no longer see the corridor. He knew it was there - knew his feet were grounded to the floor in fear - but he could not see it, for thousands - millions, even - of images flashed in front of him. He couldn’t see straight, and could barely make out anything amongst the overlaid movement. No matter where he looked, it was the same dizzying scenes, too fast and great in numbers for him to make sense of anything. He could feel his chest growing tight, his head throbbing with pain, and his limbs going numb. In a panic, he funneled all of his being and focus into getting rid of it, and ripped the soul from his, pushing it out into the air.

The soul drifted, no longer broken apart but not quite fixed, until Sans used his magic to guide it back to where the girl’s body lay still. He didn’t know if she could even come back, but the soul needed a home somewhere, he decided.

Satisfied with his actions, he turned back to the newcomer, surprised they had waited this long to make a move. Instead of a figure waiting patiently, or gearing up to attack them, he found Frisk still on the floor, cowering under the close gaze of the white face. It was speaking again, quietly, and seemed to be speaking more to itself than anyone in the room.

“Curious… a being with the ability to bend time to its will. It would appear that the time magic in the barrier had its use, after all. Oh, I should enjoy studying this one. Now, with such an excess of power in its soul, it shouldn’t mind my borrowing some.”

One of its slender hands reached toward the child, and they shied away, seemingly trying to melt into the wall. The crackle of magic filled the air, and their shining red soul materialized in front of them. They reached out, as if to take it back, but their hand slipped right through it.

Before now, Sans had never really stopped to think about how _young_ they were. _Oh for fuck’s sake- the kid is nine years old! Who does this thing think it is to take advantage of them like this?_ As he thought, he tried to ignore his hypocriticism and focus on the scene in front of him. He had a few ways he could play this. 1. He could hop over to the kid and get them both out of here, but he would be leaving behind an angry mystery and a vulnerable one. 2. He could attack the figure - it probably had a soul, right? But then he would be toying with a force he had no knowledge of, and his strength from earlier wasn’t exactly present for use now. 3. He could-

He could take too long to decide, apparently. Whatever the figure was doing to the soul, it wasn’t good, at least not for Frisk. The soul’s usually vibrant red was dulling and greying, and as Sans watched, their instincts seemed to kick in.

They clawed at the figure, but their slashing fingers slipped right through it. Sans stayed rooted to the spot, watching the child’s feeble attempts grow weaker as their soul dimmed, translucence pressing in from the edges. He knew he should feel something, whether it be fear for the child or retribution for the things they had done, but he felt nothing. He felt an emptiness in his head, as though searching for something that wasn’t there. He had, of course, grown used to this feeling a long time ago, but for some reason it now felt _wrong._ Perhaps he felt that if the world as he knew it was collapsing around him, could the walls in his memories not do the same?

The figure looked familiar. That was all he could say about it. How something so foreign and terrifying could be familiar to him… well, he didn’t know, and for once, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He didn’t particularly want to be associated with whatever beast was ripping the child’s life force straight from their soul, but, then again, perhaps knowing who - or what - the figure was would be the key to fixing things. After all, it was the thing that had broken the world apart, so maybe it could put it back together.

He was ready to speak - had finally found his voice - when the figure straightened up, leaving Frisk in a trembling heap on the floor. It was surrounded by a pulsing red glow, as though Frisk’s soul was reaching out to it. The red glow seemed to dissolve into the darkness that formed the edges of the creature, and the figure began to ripple and change. Darkness bound to darkness and pressed inward, wrapping itself over a form that Sans could not make out. When it settled, all that stood in front of him was a slender figure, as white as his own bones and taller than Papyrus, though perhaps not Undyne. It seemed to have shifted its focus to him, and was… blinking? He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening on its face, as the whole thing seemed melted and dripping. The more he looked at the figure, the greater the sense of familiarity grew inside him, but it wasn’t until he shifted his gaze downward that he understood.

_“His hands - how do they move with those holes in them?”_

Sans jerked his vision back up, locking eyes with the figure.

* * *

_“Sans, Papyrus? It’s me, Uncle Gaster. I’m here to take you to my house. Are you ready?”_

* * *

_“It’s- it’s okay, Sans. We’ll be okay together. Your momma loved- loves you very much, but she has to… she has to go away. Do you want me to carry Papyrus? He’s getting big already… No? You want to carry him? Okay…”_

* * *

_“This is my laboratory. I live in the loft, but I’m going to rent an apartment for the three of us. Your mother told me you like science, Sans, is that right? I can tell you all about my work, if you like, and maybe when you’re older, you can help me in the lab.”_

* * *

_“What do you want? I told you to go run the diagnostics. What about Papyrus? School? Yes, yes, of course. You know where the school is; you can get the forms, can’t you?”_

* * *

_“Sans, I want you to help me with something. It’s a very special experiment on amplifications to the natural magical energy of monsters… Dangerous? It’s science, Sans. It’s only as dangerous as we make it.”_

* * *

_“Come on, get up. You’re alright, aren’t you? We haven’t got the time to sit around and boondoggle - there’s work to be done.”_

* * *

_“Personal project? What are you hiding from me, Sans?”_

* * *

_“I gave you a task. This is your chance to redeem yourself. Go do it, or I will. Either way,_ _they better end up dead on our lab counter.”_

* * *

_“I don’t care what you do with it, just get it out of here. It’s useless, not unlike yourself these days.”_

* * *

The longer he stared into the figure’s eyes, the worse the feeling in the pit of his soul felt. He did not know what to call it - maybe fear, or hatred, or something else entirely - so instead, he let his voice take the reins.

“Gaster?” He asked, his voice cracked and smaller than he had anticipated.

The figure simply nodded, and its expression shifted to something that might have been interpreted as guilt. But at the same time, it seemed to look hopeful.

A small whine broke into Sans’ haze, and he remembered Frisk and their greying soul, and the girl whose soul Gaster had also touched earlier.

Sans had never been one for bravery or nobility, so one could imagine his surprise when he found himself pulling Frisk behind him, backing up so he stood protectively in front of the two humans, and spitting words as bitter as he ever had back in Gaster’s direction.

“Stay away from them.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so maybe I'm really bad at estimating. I bumped up the chapter count to 9, but it honestly looks more like it might be 10. Who even knows, so I'm gonna stop making guesses. Anyway, this was actually one of the first parts of the story that formed in my mind. More specifically, "My darling Comic Sans, did you really think I'd let you go so easily?" was the line that started this whole thing. It was a shameless, overpowered OC-insert, but the more I thought about it, the more I really, really loved the idea, and I hope you guys are liking it as well. As always, I'll be back next Sunday with more, so stay tuned c:  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	9. If Not For You

Gaster laughed. That was it. Sans wasn’t sure what exactly he had expected, but laughter sure wasn’t it. He held his stare, silently daring Gaster to make a move, but he never did.

Instead he let his laughter trickle away before finally speaking. “Oh my, Sans, you are a riot,” he said, his voice low and slow.

As he spoke, Sans noticed his hands moving - signing. _Huh, so that’s where I learned it,_ he realized. He only allowed his eyes to flick to the hands for a split second before returning to Gaster’s face, but that split second was apparently enough.

“Ah, so you remember, do you? It would be rather rude, I suppose, for you to forget me entirely. I hope it has served you well.” Gaster’s own eyes drifted to where Frisk stood, clutching Sans’ arm for balance. “And I see it has, no? A human that can control time; wherever did you manage to pick up this one?”

Now, Sans had an additional reason for not speaking: he had absolutely no idea where Gaster was going with this. Even if he didn’t remember it specifically, he got the feeling that Gaster had a tendency to do this - to make a large circle around a subject before getting to the point he meant to make. And even if he couldn’t remember it, he felt that if he interrupted the circle, he’d end up looking like a fool.

“I suppose its origin is unimportant. You’re mighty protective of it - has it proved useful? What have you learned?”

When Sans did not reply, Gaster sighed and continued. “Have you even bothered to conduct a single experiment on it? My, my, what a scientist you are. You have the subject of a lifetime sitting in front of you and you can’t even bring yourself to touch it. Are you afraid you’ll hurt it? Afraid you’ll break it?”

“They,” Sans finally said.

“Hmm? What was that? Speak up, child.”

“They. They are not an it. Frisk is not a subject; they are a person.” He felt an initially inexplicable rage boiling within him at Gaster’s comments, but realized that he must be feeling the emotions from when he lived, or worked, or whatever he did, with Gaster. He raised his chin, pulling his posture upwards. This man - this thing - would not intimidate him. “And I am not a child.”

“See, now? This is why you could never become a scientist. You form attachments to things - you _love_ things. A scientist is not a part of the world - he observes it. You allow your _feelings_ to be governed by the whims of others. You allow others to make you _weak._ You think you are a protector of the innocent and weak? A protector of the ones you love? If that is so, then... where is your little brother? Did you finally abandon him, only to be ensnared by the charisma of humans? Or did you fail him, just like you failed me?”

“Papyrus didn’t need protecting.” As he said it, he realized it was true. All his life, he’d babied Papyrus, shielding from anything and everything, trying to keep him from getting hurt. But, in the end, just as Sans had given up on protecting him, he had a better chance than anyone else. His unrelenting generosity and kindness were not synonymous with weakness - they were his strength. He certainly hadn’t believed the best in people, not entirely, or he wouldn’t have raised his defense. He had sought to change the world, but Frisk had the advantage.

“So that’s why he’s here now? Is he just in the other room, tending to the flowers because you didn’t need to protect him?”

Sans hand trembled slightly. _Who does he think he is? What gives him the authority to talk about failing someone, when it seems like all he ever did was fail me?_ He raised his chin slightly, projecting his voice more clearly throughout the hall. “I didn’t need to protect him from everything - just from you.”

Gaster laughed again. It was a low, smooth sound, much different from the harsh guttural insults Sans could feel building within himself. He wanted nothing more than to go after the monster - to tear him to shreds as vengeance for the things he had and hadn’t done. But at the same time, he wanted to know what had really happened. He wanted to understand the parts of his past that were lost to him, he wanted to know just how he and his life had become so broken, and he wanted to know how much of it Gaster was responsible for. He could not make a decision. Raw, primal fury and the patience of a scientist brawled within him, seeking to control his mind, but they were locked in an endless, equal struggle.

So instead he stood and watched, as he was very much accustomed to doing.

“Protect him from me? Where do you think the two of you would be if not for me? Where would you be if I had not taken you in - if I had not fed you, clothed you, raised you? You would be dead, or, at the very least, rummaging through trash, living off the happiness of others. You may not remember everything, but you do not get to be ungrateful.”

Anger edged out curiosity, if only for a moment. Sans took a step toward Gaster, shaking off Frisk’s pleading tugs. “If not for you? If not for _you?_ You were the one who caused me - who caused us - to fall apart.  If not for you, maybe I wouldn’t be so fucked up that I can’t even look my brother in the eyes because all I see is regret for the way I raised him. And yes, _I_ raised him. You wouldn’t even look at him after those first few months. You wouldn’t come home for days on end, all holed up in that stupid lab of yours, working on something that would only cause hurt when you finished it.”

The memories were flooding back, impressions of loneliness and anger and fear clouding his sight. But he couldn’t stop. The accusations and insults tumbled out of his mouth, held in for far too long by forces he didn’t understand.

“You say you fed us and clothed us, but the only part you had in that was tossing measly sums of money our way when we needed it. You did not raise us. I raised Papyrus, and _no one raised me!_ I was only twelve, and you _used_ me because I couldn’t fight back - because you knew that I had nowhere to go. You knew that I would run in an instant if I didn’t have Papyrus to worry about, but I did, so you knew I would stay and do _anything_ you wanted because I had no choice. I can’t even remember what you did to me, yet I know it is something I would wish on no one else.

“If you are what a scientist is - if science is throwing caution and consideration for others to the wind because there’s a _chance_ of discovery, then maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time. Maybe you’re right, and science isn’t for me… Maybe judgement is. Maybe I should spend my life tracking down horrible people like you and _making them pay_. Sound like something I’d be good at? Because it looks like I’ve got the first one for my resumé standing right in front of me - and I’m itching to get some experience.”

Gaster had stopped laughing, though Sans wasn’t sure when. Now, there was something different behind his mask of a face - something more… sinister? Sans wasn’t really sure how to describe it, but he felt like sinister might not have been the right word. Perhaps it was more of a medley of emotions - guilt, fear, regret, and confusion all wrapped up into one little enigmatic look. But Sans could really only hope those were the emotions. After all, those were the emotions Gaster had caused him to feel, so to turn them around would have been a beginning, at least. But as he watched the monster’s face, he realized that it was, of course, just a hope. There was no way this thing could be feeling regret for the things it had done - whatever it had done. There was no way he could be related to this thing that could do nothing but _hurt._

“Do what you will, Sans. I have never had control over you. It was always your willingness to help others that got you into trouble.” The monster’s body shook again, a small spasm for a silent chuckle. “And, speaking of which - haven’t you got a kingdom to clean up?”

“Haven’t I- what?”

“It seems as though we are quite alone here. Where is everyone else? I know the child was violent, but you being the last monster standing seems quite unlikely. I suspect the others may be afraid of their world falling apart.”

Sans had long since tuned out the continuous shaking of the world and the growing void of darkness. He hated to admit it, but Gaster was right. Asgore would be waiting, confused, and Alphys and the others would be huddled under her lab, fearful and trembling for much longer than they had ever been in other timelines. The state of the world was sinking in, and he began to realize what it meant.

At his silence, Gaster continued. “Well, I suppose I will leave you here to make your choices. I should like to go and visit old friends, though I believe they will remember me as a perfect stranger. You have some thinking to do, but remember, whatever you don’t do to the humans, I will. Their wandering free represents so much wasted potential, so they will end up in an examination room one way or another.”

He swept from the room, slivers of darkness trailing his retreating figure.

The hall was silent for a few seconds - a snapshot in time where no noise was made at all. Not a single breath escaped from either of the humans, and no noise escaped from any of the trio’s mouths.

Then, as Sans’ mind continued to process the things Gaster had said, reality crashed into him like a - well, he had never technically had a tidal wave crash into him, but he supposed that was the most apt description. The realization made him physically stagger as the dots connected and a truth formed in his mind: those who were dead were truly dead.

He didn’t believe that the existence of resets had ever made anyone’s death less significant, but it had certainly made them easier to deal with. Now, he realized that he would never see Papyrus again; that Undyne was forever a melted blob, slowly turning to dust; that everything would stay exactly as it was unless they could somehow reset the world.

But resets were what had caused this in the first place, and Sans generally felt that if something was the cause of a problem, it probably wasn’t the solution. _But,_ he considered, _how else could this be fixed? We have to go back somehow, or we won’t be able to break the barrier…_

For a moment, he considered something else as well. If there were no more resets, would they finally be able to take Frisk’s soul for the seventh? It wasn’t like they’d have many friends this time around, so he’d really be the only one protecting them. And after what they did, wouldn’t everyone be so enraged that they would just want to break the barrier?

And then, he considered that even if he was the only one protecting Frisk, he really did need to protect them… _and whoever this girl is. If the monsters get another soul and break the barrier, they’ll just start another war because of their anger with Frisk. We can’t handle another war - we don’t even have as many monsters as there were in the first one. If either of them get killed, the entire monster race will practically commit suicide._

He didn’t want to think. He wanted to curl up in a dark corner and not think about anything, hoping that the world would just right itself. He wasn’t alone - not at all - but there were people he would never see again - friends and family that were ended by the very thing he now had to protect. He sighed. Responsibility seriously _sucked_. If he were someone else, he could do anything he pleased - scream, cry, sink into a deep depression, the usual things - but he had a job to do. He supposed he would have gone even more crazy if he hadn’t had his position as judge, but he also wondered if, had he not ever interfered with the kid’s journeys, the world would have even reached this point.

He shook his head. He didn’t have the leisure to be standing here thinking like this; he needed to find Alphys. She was doing something with souls, after all; maybe she would know something that could help set the world right.

When he turned around, he found that the girl was awake, propping herself up on one elbow. Frisk was offering her a starfait, and she looked at it strangely, as though there was a memory associated with it that she didn’t want to remember. He knew this expression well. Even if he had never really seen himself make it, he knew how the face changed when it was made, how the different creases appeared and the eyes went blank, trying to think of anything else. But hers was different somehow… sadder, maybe. He wanted to reach out, both to comfort her and to get some _goddamn answers_ , but instead he just stood there, dumbly staring at the two, trying to figure it out on his own. He supposed that was one of his greatest flaws - his tendency toward solitude and independence, even when it hindered progress.

Finally, the silence was broken by a short slurp and a weak “thanks”. The girl shoved herself to her feet, swaying slightly. Still,  Sans did not speak. It wasn’t that he couldn’t bring himself to speak, but rather that it felt as though he couldn’t think of anything to say. Of course, that was ridiculous, as all he had to say was “Who are you?” or “What’s happening?”, but still, he did not speak.

“Sans,” she said, reaching a hand out toward him, but stopping just short of his arm.

They voiced their questions at the same time. She asked, “What do you remember?” just as he asked, “Who are you?”

Though her question was ultimately no help to Sans, his question answered hers, and she sighed.

“I thought I could do it right. I thought it would work and you’d be able to see.”

“Who are you?” he repeated.

“It’s kind of a long story, my friend. And it’s not one I’m particularly looking forward to reliving. You’re sure you don’t remember me? At all? Not even one little spark?”

Sans shook his head. “I, uh, generally don’t ask people who they are if I know them.” He grimaced, recalling an exchange with Papyrus that was similar to this sentence, albeit a little more complicated and ridiculous.

“Is there somewhere we need to be? The story… it can wait… I’m - it’s not that important.”

Standing his ground, Sans shook his head again. “No. For as long as I can remember, I’ve lived my life in the dark. Someone needs to tell me what is going on, and it, uh, looks like it’ll have to be you. Gaster doesn’t seem very, y’know, eager to help.”

“So you do remember Gaster, then?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Flashes of memory - instinctual feelings, more than anything else.”

“Do you remember what happened to him?”

“Not one bit.”

She sighed again; Sans was beginning to notice she did that a lot.

“Okay, I guess I’ll start from the very, very beginning, then. I was a pretty stupid kid - always up for dares and whatnot - and that got me in quite a bit of trouble. So basically-”

“Woah, woah, hold up. You really suck at telling stories, kid. Why don’t you start with your name?”

“My name?” she echoed.

“Yeah, your name. You know mine, so it only seems fair that I know yours.

“My name,” she repeated. “I don’t - it’s been so long since I needed a name. I suppose - before all this - it was Nima… but I don’t feel like Nima. I’m too different from who I was.”

“Well, can I at least call you ‘Nima’? I feel like it will be easier than trying to address you as a nameless entity.”

“Well,” she said, a hint of… mischief?... creeping into her voice. “These days, I suppose the most accurate name for me is ‘The Timekeeper’.”

Sans didn't miss a beat before replying. “I am not calling you ‘The Timekeeper’.”

A smile spread across her face as she chuckled. “Eh, it was worth a shot, huh? Nima’s fine, I guess. Can I continue my story, then?”

Stealing a glance at Frisk - who had taken a seat on the floor, ready to take in the tale - Sans shrugged. “Hit me.”

“Okay, but, before I start, promise me one thing.”

Sans groaned.

“I know, I know; you hate promises. But, please? Promise me that you won’t think it was your fault. If not for you, things would have turned out much different - for me, for you, and, well, for everyone. There’s things that happened that you’ll want to blame yourself for, but I need you to trust me when I say that I do not blame you, because they were not your fault.”

Despite how much he absolutely did _not_ like the sound of that, he nodded anyway. After a promise like that, though, he found that he was a little less eager to hear her story.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I'm soo sorry this chapter isn't the usual length! I had virtually no time to write this week, but I didn't want to just leave you guys without anything today! So, this is where the story gets more complicated, and also where I need to ask you guys a question:  
> Do you want me to continue with the regular long update on Sunday, or release smaller chunks of the backstory throughout the week? I'm defaulting to the Sunday update, because that's a little easier on me, but I'd be up for trying the other way, too!  
> Anyway, thanks for reading! And sorry I keep changing the chapter count - I might just change it back to unknown ^.^  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	10. I Wish You Wouldn't

“I was a pretty stupid kid - always up for dares and whatnot - and that got me in quite a bit of trouble. The greatest being falling down a hole. I wasn’t alone or anything - well, not completely. My friends and I were out exploring; it was summer, and we just wanted to have some fun, right? Well, shows how smart we are that we ended up breaking into a landfill.

“Now, I mean, we didn’t go there for the landfill; we definitely did not want to smell that all day. But we heard rumors of a little waterfall cove that could be accessed from the back of the landfill. It used to be a big tourist spot, I guess, but then the trash started piling up and the old access route was blocked.

“So, we’ve just made it past the fence, and we see that there’s probably like… I don’t know, half a mile? Half a mile of stinking, sweltering trash to get through before we reach the other side. Now, of course, when I think about it, I wonder why we didn’t just walk around to the side and climb the fence closer to the back, but, like I said: we were pretty stupid.”

She paused to clear her throat and wet her lips, and Sans chuckled at how animated she was for someone who had practically been dead a few minutes ago. He wasn’t exactly sure what the point of this part of the story was, but he was enjoying the show.

“So, we finally make it to the other side, and we see that the landfill just ends. There was this huge, like, wall or something - half brick and half whatever-rock-the-mountain-is. We were shocked. I mean, we had just walked for twenty minutes through literal trash, and we were all hot and sweaty and I don’t even want to think about how we smelled. We were ready to turn around, but luckily, my friend… my friend, she, uh, she noticed this spot where the wall didn’t quite fit right, and we discovered that there was this big opening hidden around a corner.

“Of course, we go through it, and we come out into this place that should be _beautiful_ , and it is, for the most part, but there’s still piles of trash everywhere, overflowing from the landfill. Anyway, it didn’t matter to us; all we wanted was to get in the water. We go down the hill and into the little pool at the bottom - which is also full of trash, but it didn’t really matter, at this point. So we’re all messing around, and suddenly one of my friends dares everyone to climb the waterfall. It wasn’t exactly a little stream waterfall, so almost everyone was really hesitant and just said no. But not me. I would never turn down a dare, so I set out climbing the rocks.

“It was pretty easy at first. The rocks were big and not very steep, but as I got up higher, the spray was everywhere and I definitely thought I was going to fall. But my friends were yelling at me to stop - that I’d proved my point and that I could come down now - and I just kept going. I was never the kind of person to do things halfway, and, besides, I wanted to see the top since it had been blocked by trash where we came in. It wasn’t that far up, so I guess I just figured I’d be okay.

“And I climbed and climbed and eventually I just slipped. It’s so crazy, right? How one little slip up - one little misstep can change your life? Before I knew it, I was underwater. I was panicking, yeah, but I think in the back of my mind I just figured, ‘well, I have to hit the bottom at some point right? The water’s pretty fast and deep - I should be fine, right?’ Well, apparently not. If we had actually looked at the waterfall instead of just playing in it like stupid kids, maybe we’d have seen that the top of the waterfall had a lot more water flowing down it than the bottom third or whatever. Maybe we’d have noticed that some of the falling trash didn’t make it into the pool. But I think the only time they noticed was that I fell into the waterfall and never came out. There’s this, like, hole, or something - I don’t know; I was sort of drowning - hidden in the waterfall.

“So I’m falling and falling and being pushed down by this strong current, when suddenly I hit something hard. Luckily it wasn’t a sharp rock or anything - that wouldn’t have been pretty - but it still hurt enough to really daze me. It dazed me so much that I didn’t even realize my head was out of the water until I was falling down another waterfall. And at the bottom are more stinking piles of trash. At first, I think I must have finally hit the bottom - that my mind made the journey longer than it was or whatever - but then I realized things like: it was dark; there was no one around; I was cold, and wet, and scared; and that someone was coming. You.”

Sans didn’t give any indication that she should stop speaking, so she continued to tell her story as his mind wandered, memories flashing in the back of his mind.

* * *

 _Sans was not one for digging through the trash._ Find this, find that, Sans, _he mocked in his head._ Get me more supplies, Sans. That’s all your job is now, Sans. _How was he supposed to become a scientist if all Gaster had him do was run errands?_ _Why hadn’t he sent Alphys? She hangs out here all the time - she probably wouldn’t even mind. But no, it had to be him sifting through garbage with more than his usual vigor, because at least then he could get back just in time for Gaster to ask for something else._

_It was as he was sifting through a pile of blue nametags - now out of style and replaced by pink nametags - that he heard a soft noise from another pile of trash. Normally, he would have left it alone, since it was probably just some monster having a hell of a lot more fun than he was. But something about the sound was different… more desperate, or frantic. It sounded like wheezing - like the sounds his mother and father used to make._

_He made his way over, maybe a touch less lazily that usual, and discovered a shivering heap nestled amongst the trash, seemingly… sobbing? He wasn’t sure. After all, it was impolite to assume, since, for all he knew, they could be a monster whose laugh sounded like that. He had learned his lesson about the diversity of laughter when he met an Astigmatism and nearly cried because he thought it was screaming at him._

_So, instead of asking any of the instinctual questions (“Are you okay?” “What’s wrong?”), he simply said, “Hey.”_

_The sobbing - laughing - whatever - the noise stopped abruptly, the figure freezing in place. There was a tense moment of silence before the figure turned, revealing a soft face and wild eyes._

_The eyes, really, were the most striking thing about them. Sans had not seen a human before, but he knew this must be one. No monster had eyes like that - so deep and complicated. He and Papyrus and Gaster had their pinpricks, Alphys had her simple black and white eyes, and other monsters were the same way. Like their souls, all monster eyes were simple, yet fascinating. There were those like Astigmatism, with their reflected glares and crescent moon slits, or those with the five pinched ovals of the greater spiders, or even those like him, with a simple two-color pattern of background and pupil._

_But the human’s eyes were intense. There were emotions he had never before seen conveyed, hidden just behind the glassy stare of streaky brown. The eyes looked at him, and they seemed to see him for more than what he was._

_And then the human screamed. It was a loud, piercing sound, but it only lasted a short while before the voice became hoarse and the wheezing resumed. He wanted to offer them a candy - perhaps their soul could use a little healing - but he didn’t have time to make the decision before they were gone, hidden away in one of the trash piles or caves. Sans stood for a little while, unsure of what to do. What would Gaster say if he brought back a human? He might get some respect for once, and, boy, did respect sound good. He dared to think that there might even be praise involved._

_But if, for whatever reason, he couldn’t find them, Gaster would be even angrier with him for wasting time. So, instead, he chose to grab a computer full of mostly-dry circuit boards and head back to the lab._

* * *

“I walked away,” Sans said, interrupting whatever she had been saying.

She stopped, a curious look crossing her features. “Are you remembering? You remember meeting me?”

“I guess, yeah. But I left you at the garbage dump. You screamed and I walked away.”

“The first time. You walked away the first time.”

“I don’t - I don’t think I remember-”

“Yes, you do. Trust me, you’ll remember. In the meantime, I can keep telling the story?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“So I was hiding in a little cave for… well, okay, I don’t actually know how long because I’m really bad with time. Anyway, I was sitting in the cave, freaking out because my original plan was to scream for help, but then I realized that it would probably attract more skeletons - don’t laugh, I didn’t know there were different types of monsters - and that I was much further below ground than my voice would carry. So, yeah, I was freaking out. But then I heard a voice softly calling, ‘Human?’ and, at first, I panicked more. I mean, ‘Oh my god,’ I thought. ‘They’re coming back to kill me!’ But, of course, you weren’t, and you finally found the cave that I was in, and that’s when… um… after that you offered to help me.”

Sans had to admit, the scenario felt familiar, but it also seemed off, like something was missing from it. “Why’d you pause?”

“What?”

“What happened between me finding you and offering to help?”

“... Nothing important.”

“Nima,” he warned. He was surprised at how natural the name felt to say - how familiar the tone in his voice was.

She looked shocked, too, at the use of her name, and finally caved. “Okay, I sort of… attacked you.”

Sans froze. He wasn’t exactly sure why, since it was, after all, in the past and he was, after all, still alive. “You attacked me?” he echoed.

“Well, I don’t know if ‘attack’ is the right word. I think I might have _attempted_ to attack you, but you stopped me, well, pretty easily. You sort of grabbed my wrists and pinned my legs down. Where did you learn that, by the way? It seemed like you had done it before.”

“I have no idea. I’ve never had to - or I never did - restrain anyone. I don’t know what…” he trailed off, remembering a dark room and a struggling Alphys, blinded by panic. “Oh,” he said finally. “I learned it from… from an old friend. Panic attacks can be, uh, violent.”

“Well, I’m glad you knew. I would have felt terrible if I’d hurt you.”

Sans nodded in agreement, glancing at his own HP, which was slowly ticking its way back down to one. Out of curiosity, he tried to check hers, but was unable to. He frowned, but brushed it away, figuring that far stranger things were happening to the world lately. He’d ask about it later.

“What did I say, though?” he asked. “Why did I help you?”

“Not all monsters hate humans, Sans. You definitely don’t.”

He looked pointedly at Frisk, who, despite sticking their tongue out, looked guilty. “That’s debatable.”

“Sans, you don’t hate humans. If you did, you wouldn’t have helped me, and you wouldn’t have helped Frisk.”

“But why would I help you? I grew up under the impression that humans were evil and that taking their souls to break the barrier was a good thing.”

“I can’t answer that, Sans. You never told me why. I tried - I asked and asked - but you never would tell me why you chose to help me.”

Sans sighed. “Okay, what happened next?”

“You took me to a lab. I wanted to explore, but you kept saying ‘no’. I still wish I could have seen more of this place.”

“Haven’t you seen everything? That stuff I saw when I had your soul - what was that? It looked like everything that exists was somehow crammed into my vision.”

“Yeah, it’s like that at first. Or maybe at last? I’m not really sure. Can I even say that? How does sequence work outside of time?”

Sans shook his head, confused. “Woah, woah, woah. What are you talking about?”

“Nevermind. It wouldn’t make sense to you. Just try and remember meeting me again. You, um, what did you do? You let me wear your jacket? I think you made fun of me at one point, but I can’t remember what for. Um, let’s see… we rode a weird boat with a creepy dude that liked to sing; we-”

And just like that, Sans was pulled into another memory.

* * *

_“Please don’t hurt me!”_

_“Woah, hey, no, no; calm down. I’m not gonna hurt you… I just wanted to talk to you.”_

_The human’s struggles slowed and eventually ceased, leaving the cave filled with heavy breaths. “To… talk…  to me?”_

_“Yeah. I saw you earlier-”_

_“I know.”_

_“Okay, so, uh, you’re a human… right?”_

_“Um, yes?” they squeaked._

_“Look, you don’t have to be afraid of me.”_

_“Can you let go of my hands, then?”_

_Sans started, jumping back a little as he released them. “Sorry.”_

_“It’s okay.”_

_“I’m Sans.”_

_Silence._

_“What’s your name?”_

_More silence._

_“C’mon, I’m just trying to be friendly here…”_

_“Nima.”_

_“Okay… Nima. How did you get here?”_

_“I fell.”_

_“Well, that generally has to happen to get underground. Where did you fall from?”_

_“I don’t know anymore. It was a long and bumpy ride down.”_

_“Ride?”_

_“I came down the waterfall.”_

Well, that explains why they’re all wet, _he thought. “Oh, um, okay… then.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Silence. Awkward silence._

_“Do you… want to go home?”_

_“What?”_

_“Do you want to get back to the surface?”_

_“Yes! Do you know the way?”_

_“Um…”_

_“Please?”_

_“It’s not that simple.”_ _  
_ _“I’m not afraid of challenges. I love challenges!”_

_“I mean that-”_

_“Pleeeeaaase.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“What?”_

_They had both asked this at the same time. The human - Nima - obviously in confirming his answer, and him in disbelief at his answer._

_Still, this human was nothing like the stories. They weren’t hurting him, or being violent or scary at all - they were scared of him, in fact. He hated when Gaster hurt innocent people with his experiments, so how could he hurt this innocent human?_

_“Yes. I will… help you. I’m going to get you out.”_

_“Thank you! Oh my god, thank you!”_

_“Uh, yeah, of course. We should get going, though. I have somewhere to be.”_

_“Yes!” they exclaimed, climbing to their feet. Sans was surprised; they had looked to be weak and tired - he had wondered if they would even be able to stand._

_“Yeah, let’s go,” he said, exiting the cave and straightening up, stretching his spine against its cramped position. Seconds later, the human stood next to him, and he realized how much taller they were than him. He let out a harrumph, disappointed by yet another person to literally look up to. He supposed he could complain about it to Alphys later, if she wasn’t busy again._

_As they waded through the water, he noticed a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision every so often, and eventually stopped, stepping in front of the human’s path. They stopped just short of running him over._

_“What?” they asked at his quizzical stare._

_“Don’t you wanna take that… thing off? It’s all wet… and you look cold.” He asked, gesturing lazily to the brown fabric wrapped around their head._

_They reached up, gently touching a hand to the fabric, as though they had forgotten it was there. “Oh, no, I almost always wear it. My parents call it a symbol of faith or modesty or something, and I just grew up with it, so I just feel comfortable with it.”_

_Sans chuckled a little, eager for the chance to tease someone other than Papyrus because, frankly, he felt kind of bad doing it to Paps. “I feel like that modesty is undermined by the tank top and short-shorts.”_

_They responded with a glare. “Shut up. It’s my choice, and I don’t even know you.”_

_He held up his hands in surrender, a softer note coming into his voice. “Look, I don’t know a ton about humans, but I do know they get sick really easily. I think being cold had something to do with it, so you should probably take that off.”_

_“If you want me to take off my clothes, a simple ‘please’ would suffice.”_

_Sans’ next words died in his mouth as he sputtered._

_They smiled, laughter breaking through their stare. “I’m only kidding.”_

_“Yeah… of course. So, uh, we can keep, y’know, going… now.”_

_The two began to walk again, and Sans nearly tripped over his own feet when he heard a quiet, “It would at least take a ‘pretty please’.”_

_He stopped, shrugging his jacket off and handing to to them. “Here. At least until we get to Hotland?”_

_“I don’t know what that means,” they said, taking the jacket. “But… thanks, I guess.”_

_Seeing their gratitude and more open demeanor, Sans could only imagine how confused they were when he shoved them into a trash pile._

* * *

“What did you remember?”

“Agreeing to help you. Asking about that scarf you wore. Um, shoving you into a trash pile. Sorry about that, I guess.”

“No, that was to hide me. There were other monsters coming. Don’t worry - you apologized afterwards… you apologized to me a lot… you always thought everything was your fault. I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Don’t you mean ‘wished’?”

Her expression softened, and she shook her head. “Sans, I know more than you think. I know that you still blame yourself for every little thing that happens and I just… I mean I know why, but… I still wish you wouldn’t.”

“I don’t-”

“You do.”

“I-”

“Don’t argue. You’re talking to a practically all-knowing being with powers beyond compare.”

“Am I?”

“Okay, maybe not. I’m not really sure what I am… or how I’m here. But, still, can you just not argue? It’s annoying.”

“Well your ego is annoying.” It was out of his mouth before he even knew it, and Sans certainly had no idea where it came from. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Sans! Why do you apologize for everything? We were friends - we made stupid comments like that all the time! Even if you don’t remember, I still don’t see why you can’t just let things happen, you know? Just let things happen and if you regret them, then too bad! They already happened! I lived outside of time - everything is in the past for me!”

“Did you really?”

“What?”

“Live outside of time - what does that even mean?”

“That’s a long story, Sans.”

“Apparently everything is.”

“It’s complicated, and I don’t know what importance it could really have. I mean, we already know that the timelines are all breaking down and converging and just generally getting fucked up, so we’re dealing with-”

“Hang on. Go back. The timelines are doing what?”

“Well, you saw your friends, right? The ones that, um, you shouldn’t… see? In this timeline?”

“Well, yes, but I was dying, so I kind of figured it had something to do with that.”

“Not you - time. Timelines are breaking apart and running into each other. What you saw were like… imprints, I guess? They’re parts of other timelines that collided with this one.”

“How do you-”

“Did you know that there’s only one Frisk?”

Sans looked between Frisk and her, staring at each of them. Frisk only shrugged, a bewildered look on their face. “Of course there’s only one Frisk,” he said at last.

“No, I mean across the timelines. When they ‘reset’, they jump to the new timeline. Even with all these timelines colliding, there’s only one of them.”

“So, what? Everyone else doesn’t? We’re going to run into hundreds of versions of my dead friends? I’m going to meet myself over and over?”

“Well, no. I don’t think so. I think the timelines are still stable enough… we might see more imprints, at the most. And, um, about you…”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Um, remember how you were, well, dying?”

“Like it was only yesterday.”

“Ha ha, very funny. So, yeah; you were dying and then you… weren’t… um, so that’s because I sort of… combined all of you?”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Okay, so, when I came out of the - void? No, that wasn’t the void - the place outside of time, I still had a sort of… connection, I guess, to the timelines, and I sort of… madeyouabsorballtheotherversionsofyourself?”

“Okay, I’m having a hard time believing you know a word that long, so, do ya wanna try again?”

“I made you absorb all the other versions of yourself.”

“You can do that?”

“Apparently so.”

“Huh.”

There was a pause, and then, “‘Huh’? I tell you that you are the only you that exists in the universe, and I get back a ‘huh’?.”

“Yep.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I dare what?”

“Shut down on me! You did this all the time! I’d say something and then you’d just be all ‘Uh-huh,’ and ‘yep’, and you wouldn’t talk to me! Why?"

“I dunno.”

“Sans.”

“I really don’t know. I don’t remember, remember?”

She sighed, or maybe it was a groan. Sans didn’t really care, because he was only partially doing what she had said. He felt himself shutting down a little, but mostly he liked to see her annoyed. He had felt lonely for so long, being the only one who knew about timelines and resets, but now _he_ was the clueless one; now he got to watch someone else squirm instead of being the one under suspicion and worry.

“God, I thought you might at least be interested in this! I thought maybe someone would want to take the world back from a child and a flower!”

Both Sans and Frisk perked up at this, Frisk looking slightly worried and Sans looking wholly confused.

“A flower? What’s a flower got to do with this?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Why do you keep asking me that? I clearly don’t.”

“Okay, um, so Frisk can reset, yeah? But it’s not a power unique to them. Time bends to the individual with a great amount of determination because… well, I don’t exactly know why, but it does. But Frisk wasn’t always in the Underground, so they couldn’t have always been the person with the most determination - and before them, there was this flower.”

“That’s me!”

The trio all turned around, facing the far end of the corridor, where a small flower sat, all too large roots bursting from cracks in the floor.

“Howdy! I’m Flowey! Flowey the flower!” Its voice reverberated through the hall, shrill yet threatening. “I’ve been waiting for _ever_ for Chara to show up - which one of you dummies ruined the world? That’s their job!”

No one spoke. Their silence was all for very different reasons - Frisk probably felt guilty for never mentioning Flowey, Nima simply wasn’t sure what to say, though this was probably due to Sans’ open-mouthed gaping at the flower, and Sans, well, Sans was gaping - but the endpoint was the same: awkward, prolonged silence.

“What? Have you all got dust in your brains? Which one of you messed up my world?!”

“Uhh,” Sans started, but Frisk was already up and rushing over to the flower, their little legs carrying them as fast as they could.

To Sans’ surprise, the flower began to shriek, its voice growing louder and, somehow, more shrill.

“No! No, stay back! Please don’t kill me!”

At this, Sans stood up, ready to pull Frisk through a shortcut, but it wasn’t necessary. The child ignored the flower’s cries, even after it pulled their soul from their chest, firing haywire attacks at it. They dodged effortlessly, and scooped the flower up into a hug - well, as much as one can hug a flower.

“What are you doing, you idiot? You’re supposed to be _killing everyone!”_

Frisk released their hold, signing some intelligible thing, and the flower’s face grew disgusted. It retracted its roots from the floors and walls, allowing Frisk to carry it back to their group. Sans simply stared, confused, and Nima not-so-subtly moved to stand behind him, placing as much distance between her and the flower as she could.

“Eugh. You’re teaming up with the smiley trashbag?”

Sans glanced at Frisk, gesturing slightly to himself, and they nodded, shrugging a shoulder.

“He’s no good; you can’t trust him. He’ll just kill you and kill you until there’s no determination left in your rotten little soul and your saves won’t matter anymore. What good is a power like this if you can’t even explore all the possibilities?!”

Frisk rolled their eyes at the flower,  and Sans turned to Nima, whose fearful gaze was unhelpfully trained on the flower, before finally blurting out, “Does anyone want to tell me what is going on?”

Of course, it had to be the flower that replied. “Oh, yeah, it speaks. I forgot,” it drawled. “So how many times have you tortured the poor kid like you did me? How many times have you _killed out of frustration?”_

Sans didn’t particularly think of it as frustration - it was more of a vigilante type thing, except… lazier. The lazy part was important, or he might as well have been another Undyne.

“What? You let the kid get the better of you? Did you feel _guilty? Shameful?_ Was it your sick way of making up for killing me? Does letting them live over and over again negate the things you did to me? I was the one with all the power, and I never stood a chance against you. Is it because they’re a kid? Does their _cutesy little face_ make them innocent?”

“Yeah,” Sans interrupted. “Funny thing is: I’ve never met you. Unless I forgot the dozens-”

“Hundreds.”

“Okay, sure, hundreds of timelines where we met - and apparently fought - then I don’t know you.”

“Oh, so you’re _so_ sure you haven’t forgotten?! You forgot almost everything about _me._ What makes the kid so different?”

“Y’know, you three all have more in common than you think,” Sans stated, his voice flat.

A “Wha-?”, an “I’m not like them!”, and a contemplative-turned-conceding shrug responded to his remark.

“Yeah, you really are - none of you will ever give me a straight answer. What. The hell. Is going. On?”

Now, Sans expected that after such a demanding outburst like that, he might finally have asserted dominance and would get what he asked for. Unfortunately, he was wrong. Instead, they ignored him - oh, how he was used to being ignored - but, he had to admit, they made a pretty good point.

“Um,” Nima spoke up, her voice more timid than before, “Should we be worried… about… Gaster, like, wandering the Underground?”

“ _Shit.”_

It was, all things considered, a pretty appropriate response.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Why didn’t we follow him?” Sans asked, taking a few steps back, inching closer to the doorway.

Nima shrugged. “You wanted me to tell you what was going on.”

“Do any of you understand what _priorities_ are?”

“I haven’t had to have priorities for… well, you know… the whole timeless thing… it’s um… yeaahh.”

“Okay. Here’s how this is going to go: we’re going to go to Alphys’ lab - all the…” he trails his words, carefully selecting his next word with a glance at Frisk, “remaining… monsters should be there, so Gaster is there or he’s not bothering anyone. And, uh, yeah - it’s a lab, and Alphys is smart, so we’ll, y’know, figure this out and fix this.” Before anyone could protest, he added, “And since there’s too many of us for a shortcut, you’re going to be telling me everything I need to know on the way.”

They obliged, following him like a little pack of baby animals, but not without their attempts at protests. When Sans chose to ignore each one, Frisk finally stepped in - literally stepping in front of him and forcing him to stop. They made a little wave and he nodded, even though he was really only half paying attention.

**Sans? I know you’re upset-**

“Upset? Kid, when do I get upset? You know me - I get bored, tired, hungry, occasionally a little angry, but when have I ever gotten upset?”

They did not seem convinced or amused. **Sans,** **we’re forgetting-**

“You want to talk to me about forgetting? You remember everything, and everyone else is keeping things from me, so go ahead: spill, why don’t you? If you don’t want me to be upset, then tell me what in the hell is going on.”

“Sans.” This time, his name was spoken aloud, and as he turned to face Nima, she flinched back slightly. “Couldn’t you at least let them talk? I know you feel-”

“Why is everyone so sure they know how I feel?” he grumbled. “No one knows how I feel. Everyone else either has no clue what’s going on or knows everything. I am the single, lone person who has to scrape by with just enough knowledge to make everything more confusing!”

It was strange, for him to raise his voice. All his intimidation had been done through low drawls and empty eyesockets - never before had he yelled to make a point. But, then again, never before had he been faced with such a frustrating situation.

Nima pointed him back at Frisk, who began to sign without regard to whether Sans was really looking or not. Luckily for Frisk and unfortunately for Sans’ brooding, he was always drawn to the sight of sign language, and so read their message, whether or not he wanted to aside.

**Sans,** **shouldn’t we go get Asgore?**

_Oh. Right._ _Damn._

In his capacity as Asgore’s trusty judge, Sans was pretty sure he had a a lot of explaining to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, soo sorry again! I know the updates are getting erratic, but I hope you can bear with me! Anyway, I feel like I owe you a little explanation, so here's that:  
> I write this fic without any cushion chapters. None of this is written in advance. Each chapter usually takes me anywhere from 2-4 days - or periods of hours of writing - to do, so I give myself a week to accumulate that many. The thing is, when I began this fic, the teacher for my computer science class at school was expected to be gone for the rest of the year, and without anyone else qualified to teach it, we were expected to have a free period with computer access for the rest of the year. That's 5 hours a week to work on the fic, not including out-of-school time, that I thought I would get. But the teacher came back, so now it's the end of the year and I'm juggling school and dance, and finals are rapidly approaching, and I simply do not have as much time to write this fic.  
> So, the basic gist of it is: Updates probably won't follow a nice schedule. I will continue to try and shoot for Sundays, but it likely won't happen, especially when you consider that I only just finished this chapter 4 days late. Despite this, I hope you stick with me because I really love all my wonderful readers, and I fully intend on finishing this fic - I'm honestly in love with this story...  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	11. why?

To say Sans wasn’t looking forward to seeing Asgore was an understatement. It wasn’t that he was scared of Asgore - Asgore was, in fact, a very nice monster - but rather that he dreaded the reaction Asgore would have. It wouldn’t be anger - Asgore was too calm, collected, and noble for anger - and it certainly wouldn’t be fear - Asgore was scared of a lot of things, sure, but Sans had always known that Asgore had made his peace with the inevitability of death long ago - so perhaps he dreaded Asgore’s disappointment. 

Disappointment was one of the most bitter emotions Sans had ever known, though possibly because he had nearly always been on the receiving end of it. He was always so proud of Papyrus, and while Papyrus always kept up a positive front, Sans knew that he was always disappointed in him. Disappointed in him for staying late at Grillby’s again, for slacking off at his job, for pushing him away, for everything. Sans couldn’t find one thing in his fickle memory that someone could be proud of  _ him _ for. And as he thought, Gaster’s voice came back to him, his bony hands flashing signs at him.

_ “You are nothing but a disappointment.” _

God, he just wanted it to  _ stop. _ He wanted to go back to his old life where all that mattered was that at the end of the day, he was happy, and Papyrus was happy, and they could go to Grillby’s together and stay past closing time together and laugh together and live together, god how he just wanted to be  _ together  _ again. He was losing it. He knew it - he could feel it - but he wasn’t sure if he even cared anymore. He wouldn’t have to care about anything if he just succumbed to insanity. Hell, maybe he’d even just die and could escape all of this. 

“Sans, are you listening to me?”

“No.” What was the point in lying now?

“Come on, we have to focus, right? If I can focus with every timeline that ever existed bouncing across my vision, you can focus, too, alright?”

She was talking down to him. Why did everyone always do that? He wasn’t a child. He hadn’t been a child for a long time. Children don’t have to take care of other children; children don’t have to spiral into a depression that drives them to drink like a working monster in a love-lost bond. Man, did he want a drink; he didn’t really care what, at this point - a whiskey, beer, one of Grillby’s mystery mixers, hell, he’d take whatever-the-fuck a Temmie Twister was in his current state; he just really wanted a drink.

Suddenly, there was a palm connecting with the side of his face, and a hollow slap filling the air. He blinked slowly, taking in what had just happened. 

“Did you just… hit me?” He eyed his HP, which had dropped from three back down to one.

“You aren’t focusing! You were just on our cases about priorities, and now you’re standing here like a sack of potatoes!

“I think he’s more like a trashbag.”

“You’re a flower; you don’t get an opinion. Sans, you have to do whatever Frisk told you to do, and then we have to go to Alfie’s lab or whatever and figure this mess out, right? Isn’t that what you want to do?”

“Alphys.”

“What?”

“Her name is Alphys.” He wasn’t sure why that detail was so important, but it was. It was as though the error had distracted him and made the rest of the sentence void of meaning.

“Okay, sure, Alphys, whatever. Can we just go, Sans? I’m…” she paused and, unbeknownst to Sans, flicked a small tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m really worried, okay? I don’t want Gaster running free about the Underground. What if he hurts someone else?”

“Else? Who did he hurt before?”

“It’s-”

“A long story; I got it.” Sans sighed, tearing his eyes away from the spot on the floor. He wondered how often he actually did that - stared at a completely unremarkable spot for a, debatably, remarkable amount of time. He wondered how many monsters he had unintentionally stared at over the years, and almost chuckled. 

Almost.

Frisk tugged on his sleeve again, and what they signed sent his mind reeling back in time. 

**Sans, what’s wrong?**

How long had it been - or, rather, not been - since they asked him that staring at him with eyes that, although they were physically older, were so much younger than the ones he looked at now? How long had it been since he knew the answer to that question?

He shook his head. “Sorry kiddo.”

They persisted, clearly following the same thread of memory as he was.  **Are you happy, Sans?**

He shook his head again. That wasn’t the question now. “Happiness doesn’t matter when the world is ending.”

**Are you okay, Sans?**

Once more, he shook his head. It seemed to be the only thing he knew how to do. Wait for question, shake head - it was a methodical process. Sans once liked methodical; he once liked how easy it was to get lost in a task - how quickly he could lose his sense of time as he did the same thing over and over.

He didn’t like methodical anymore.

But it was all he could do.

“Kid,” he said, trapping their furiously signing hands between his own once more, the dull ache returning to the space beneath his right eyesocket. “Let it go. It doesn’t matter now.”

No one spoke.

“C’mon, kids. Let’s just go to Asgore.”

“Sans…” Nima’s voice sounded different, as though physically more distant, yet softer and closer in its tone.

“Let’s go.” His own voice was rough, lacking its usual underlying chuckle; he almost didn’t recognize it, but then, why would he? It wasn’t as though he would recognize himself at this point, so why would his voice be any different?

The trek to the end of the hall seemed much shorter than ever before; the distance from the door to the door of Asgore’s throne room seemed like it was crossed in a single step; it was then Sans realized he was more than dreading facing Asgore - he was terrified. He didn’t want to do it; all this time, the trouble had been confined to his corridor, but if - when - he had to tell Asgore? 

Then it was real. Then, this was really happening. Sans had long vowed that he would never burden someone else with the knowledge of the resets, just in case they stopped. If the resets stopped, that someone would be left with the knowledge that there were thousands of versions of them in thousands of timelines living thousands of lives they couldn’t remember. And then, of course, they might not even believe him. They might look at him as though he was crazy, worrying over him until both of them completed their descent into madness. 

He hadn’t before realized, though, that the only someone else he had ever considered telling was Papyrus. He hadn’t before considered that someone else might not care about him as much, and would concern themself more with the message than the messenger. 

And he certainly hadn’t considered that someone else already knew.

“What?” he said, surely sounding like a broken record by now.

“I suspected something was strange with this child,” Asgore clarified. “I never figured it out, but they seemed familiar. They seemed to have a connection to me even though we had never met. I suspected we must have met before, but where else than in an alternate universe?”

Sans gawked - actually gawked. Asgore was known as the fuzzy goofball, the kind king who, despite his faults in management and naming, was a great king. He was not known for theorizing things and having knowledge of alternate universes. Sans, on the other hand, was becoming quite well-known for being confused, so at least someone was sticking to their part.

“An alternate universe?”

“I speak with Alphys more than you think, Sans. Her work is quite fascinating, even if most of it goes over my head. I have picked up a few things here and there, despite that. She speaks often of ‘potential for controlling time’ and of ’the possibility of other worlds and the space in between’ or something like that.”

“The space in between?” Sans wanted to kick himself; his only responses since Asgore started speaking were just echoes of things the king said. But, it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with anything else. 

“Ah, you would have to ask Alphys herself about that. That display was about the extent of my knowledge on the subject.” 

A silence fell over the room for a moment, but before it could settle, the rustling of Asgore’s cloak interrupted as he removed it. At first, Sans couldn’t figure out what he was doing, but when he moved toward Nima, holding the cloak out, he realized. 

“Thanks,” she squeaked, taking the cloak and wrapping it around her. With her small frame, she seemed to be drowning in the mass of fabric, but Sans supposed it was better than nothing - which was what she had, unnoticed by him, been wearing until now.

_Wow,_ Sans considered. _This couldn’t possibly be more awkward._ _Why didn’t she say anything?_

Suddenly, he remembered the mass balled up in his pocket, and he pulled it out, handing the red fabric to her. When a surprised look crossed her face, he elaborated. “Here. Someone ought to wear it.”

The surprise changing to gratitude, she took the scarf, expertly wrapping it around her head in a matter of seconds. Her features instantly seemed more content, her posture relaxing as she settled in. It wasn’t a particularly important thing, Sans realized, to their current situation, but her pure satisfaction certainly wasn’t something he’d object to seeing again.

Sans moved to speak, but before he could, Asgore spoke again.

“Now, shall we address a solution for this problem you’ve brought to me?”

There it was. The disappointment, the not-so-accidental accidental blame - it was all there. Sans really hated this feeling. He’d forgotten just how much he hated this feeling, but that was probably because the last time he had truly felt it was apparently before the entire existence of two people (and possibly a flower?) was blocked out of his memory.

Maybe he had often done so in the past, but this time, he refused to take it. 

“ _ Brought _ to you? You mean brought to your attention, right? This is not my fault; I have been trying to prevent this from the beginning.”

“Sans, do calm down. I never meant to imply that it was your fault-”

“You did, though. Of course you meant to, because I am the only person you can think to blame. Your trusty judge, meant to ensure no monster became a monster in the humans’ sense of the word - meant to ensure that you never had the dust - the blood - of an innocent on your hands. You couldn’t make a choice, so you hired me to make them for you. You couldn’t bear to be responsible for anything, so you scattered your responsibilities across judges and guards and advisories so that nothing could be blamed on  _ you _ .”

“Sans,” Nima warned, resting a hand on his shoulder, “calm down; just let it go.”

But his long-lost anger had been unlocked, and he could not stop now. He whipped around to face her, throwing her hand from his shoulder. 

“Let it go?  _ Let it go?  _ All my life, everyone has done this to me - they’ve all  _ used _ me. I have no accomplishments, no life, because all I have ever been is a servant - a scapegoat. Gaster used me, Asgore used me, hell, even Frisk used me, and I’d be willing to bet anything that the flower used me, and that  _ you _ used me. So don’t tell  _ me _ to ‘let it go’.”

The room fell silent. His rage was still fuming inside him, bursting for a chance to escape, but he couldn’t muster up anything to say. There was nothing left to be said - not really, at least. he could yell about never being told anything, could shout his grievances about the life he never got to have, could scream for hours about the things they had all done to him.

But what would be the point? 

They weren’t listening, anyway, so why should he bother? Why should he bother to just keep on saying things that nobody would hear because they were all too preoccupied with everything else. Why should he bother when he was surrounded by people who cared more about his past than his current state of mind? Why should he bother at all, ignorant acquaintances or not?

“Sans, I-”

“I don’t care,” he snapped, not even flinching at her hurt expression. “This has nothing to do with you, so stay out of it.”

“Nothing to do with me? This has everything to do with me! And I’m not just being narcissistic here - this whole thing is my fault!” she cried.

“Oh, you hear that, world? Hear that? It’s her fault! For once, you can blame someone else! For once, you can believe me when I defend myself!”

At this point, if anyone thought Sans wasn’t going crazy, they were probably also going crazy.

“It’s your fault?” he continued, stepping closer to her, leaving only a breath between his face and her ear. “Then fix it,” he said through clenched teeth.

She didn’t react except for a small sliding of her irises - a brief look at him from the corners of her eyes before snapping her gaze back to the front. Clearly, she didn’t like what she saw.

But Sans didn’t know what she saw. Perhaps she saw him in a new light, his ‘true nature’, or whatever bullshit it was called, revealed. Perhaps she saw him as a monster - the kind of monster in human legends and nightmares. Perhaps she saw a failure. Or a guilt-ridden reminder of something left behind. Perhaps she simply saw him. Perhaps ‘him’ was something unrecognizable and terrifying. 

Or perhaps he was just pathetic.

He reaction didn’t necessarily lend itself to fear. Sans knew that people often averted their eyes for many reasons, and Sans was sure he fit the bill for at least half of them.

“I-” she stammered out, still not looking at him. 

Ah, so it was fear.

“Sans, stand down.” Asgore’s booming voice covered whatever she had been trying to say, masking it under a daring command.

He turned again, whipping around to face his new opposer. “Do you think you can just tell me what to do?”

“Considering I hired you, yes, actually.” Asgore, for all his calm airs and placid demeanor, was still very clearly only barely holding together. His eyes - oh, his eyes - that was fear. That was the fear of many things all at once. What had happened to Sans? What would Sans do next? Did he need to stop Sans? 

Sans didn’t care what he was asking - only how he would answer.

“I am not a pawn!” Sans snapped, his eyes wild and expression feral. 

“No, you are not, but you are a problem-solver. And we have a problem, Sans, so I am ordering - asking - you: get to solving it.”

“Why should I? She admitted it was her fault. Why should I have to clean up everyone else’s messes?”

Nima sighed from behind him, having gathered enough courage to speak again, but not so much that the fear was completely gone from her voice. This happened to be a pity, for what she said would have been much funnier under different circumstances, and especially had she not been trembling.

“Jesus, Sans. And you wonder why people call you a child all the time?”

He glared, the anger behind his eyes bubbling up and ready to burst as words, but, instead of exploding again, he stopped, his mind faltering as the sense of deja vu washed over him. 

* * *

_ “I’m not a child!” _

_ “As long as you continue to pull stunts like this, you are the epitome of a child. When you can be mature and focused on your work - maybe then could you be considered an adult.” _

_ “Why are you so terrible to me?” _

_ “How many times have you dared to defy me, and how many times have I given you grace? The numbers do not lie, Sans; I am as forgiving as they come.” _

_ “The fact that you have numbers for it would suggest otherwise,” Sans, albeit a much younger Sans, muttered. _

_ “Speak up, child. You cannot be expected to be taken seriously if no one can hear what you say.” _

_ “Why do there have to be numbers? Why do you keep a mental record of the times you’ve forgiven me?” _

_ “A scientist must keep their world in order and under their control. An oversight, a failure to make an observation, could bring destruction. Do you understand?” _

_ “Yes, Uncle Wing Ding” _

_ “It’s ‘Dr. Gaster’ in the lab, Sans.” _

_ “But you’re always in the lab.” _

_ “Then it must always be ‘Dr. Gaster’, hm?” _

_ “Yes, Dr. Gaster.” _

_ “Thank you. Now, go and finish the work I gave you. And when you’re done you can see if Alphys needs any help.” _

_ “What are we doing tomorrow, U- Dr. Gaster?” _

_ “I have a new experiment planned. I may ask my best lab assistant to aid me in its execution.” _

_ “Who is the best lab assistant?” _

_ “We’ll just have to find out tomorrow, won’t we?” _

* * *

Of course it was him. Of course it had been Gaster who incited his hatred of the word ‘child’. Of course it had been Gaster who associated everything juvenile with inadequacy and failure.

Of course, he had to wonder if it was the reason he always called Frisk ‘kid’ or ‘kiddo’.

“Sans?” 

The voice was gentler than the cold tones of memory, and he wanted to listen to it. It sounded like the kind of voice that might comfort him, and, oh, how he wanted to be comforted. When he was younger he wanted nothing more than to explore and be exposed to all sorts of new things, but now he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a shelter, blocking the outside world from affecting him.

He didn’t think the voice could do that.

“Sans, are you okay? Can- um- can you hear me?”

“What is he doing?”

This voice was not as nice. It held the same concern and warmth behind it, but it was deeper, smoother, and it reminded him too much of Gaster’s voice. He stiffened up a little, but relaxed when the other voice came back.

“I think he’s remembering something - from another timeline, that is. It can be a little, intense, but it’s never been like this. I’m worried.”

He didn’t want the voice to worry. It was not the kind of voice that should worry. Yet, somehow, the voice’s worry was familiar, and he found himself drifting further from its current existence, and closer to another version of it.

* * *

_ “Hey, Sans, how long do you think it’ll take? To get me back to the surface?” _

_ “Uh, I don’t really… know… It’s kind of a… complicated process. Are you, um, okay, to hide out here, for a little while?” _

_ “Yeah, of course, and, I mean, thank you for helping me. I don’t want to think what would have happened if someone less, um - accepting? Yeah, accepting - had found me.” _

_ “Well, you’d probably be dead.” _

_ A pillow collided with his face, and he pulled it away to meet the human girl’s gaze. _

_ “Did I not just say I didn’t want to think about it?” _

_ “Sorry,” he said, shrugging as a cheeky smile crept across his face. _

_ She didn’t reply other than sticking her tongue out.  _ Eugh, tongues. Humans are weird _ , he thought. _

_ When neither of them spoke for a while, she shifted, curling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. “I’m just worried, you know? My family’s probably really scared - I don’t know what my friends must have told them. I mean, maybe they already pronounced me dead up there. I fell off a freakin’ waterfall and never came back up! I could be stuck in a tangle of plants or buried under garbage for all they know! Oh my god, what happens if I get back up there and I’ve been dead to them for weeks?” _

_ Sans had no idea how to approach a shaking, frantic human, but he knew that her voice was becoming all too loud for the level of secrecy required to keep her alive. It was a miracle that he hadn’t yet heard Gaster’s shoes come clicking down the hall to investigate. After all, if a scientist observes everything and keeps their world under their control, Gaster was being a pretty lousy scientist. _

_ “It’ll, um… It’ll be okay, Nima.” He spoke her name slowly, testing it out again. He didn’t like it; the name felt different than learning a new monster’s name. Maybe it was because she was human - maybe he had  just never thought of humans having names. There were so many of them, according to legend. Did they all have unique names? That’d be a lot of names to keep track of. “But, could you, maybe, keep your voice down? I don’t want my boss showing up and… y’know.” _

_ She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god,” she said, voice muffled by her fingers. “I totally didn’t think of that, I’m so sorry. That doesn’t just affect me, does it? Your boss would be angry with you for hiding a human, right? Oh my god, I’ll be quieter.” _

_ “The most quiet thing you can be is silent,” Sans said, the words out of his mouth before he realized it.  _

_ Luckily, she didn’t seem to take offense. “Sorry, I’m babbling. I’ll shut up now, I promise.” _

_ “No,” Sans said, again speaking before his mind had a chance to process his thoughts. “You can keep talking. It’s kinda nice to talk to someone.” _

* * *

“Okay, this hasn’t happened before.”

“Before? How long have you known Sans? How long have you been in the Underground?” 

“Um, it’s a long story, and we don’t have time for it; he’s been like this for too long! C’mon, Sans, snap out of it! We have work to do!”

* * *

_ “Get up. The day is not over, and there’s still work to be done.” _

_ “Can’t we take a break? It makes me tired.” _

_ “Tired produces a different data set. We need as much data as we can get, Sans. You agreed to help me with this experiment. Would you rather Alphys take your place?” _

_ “No,” he said, scrambling to his feet again. “No, don’t bring Alphys into this. I can handle it. I can go again.” _

_ “I need you to take this seriously. This could be the future of monsters, Sans. Magic amplifiers could cure those with magic deficits, could bring stronger soldiers into the ranks of the Royal Guard, could potentially overload the barrier and set us free, in which case we would be strong enough to defeat humans and assert our place on the surface. My experiments do not exist without purpose.” _

_ “What about the other one? With the photon readings you always have me print for you?” _

_ “That is not of your concern right now. We will come to it in time. And, if it proves successful, we may have more time on our hands than we know what to do with. Now, I’m resetting the test. Prepare yourself, and perform to the fullest of your ability.” _

* * *

“How have you brought him back before?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never had to; he usually just snaps out of it on his own - huh? Frisk! I don’t want to hurt him! ...that’s not what that means? Sorry, I don’t know sign language, um can you… sorry.”

“What was your intention after coming here?”

“We were going to go to the lab and look for Gaster-”

“Gaster? Where do I know that name?”

“He’s -  he was - the royal scientist? Or something? Sans never explained it fully to me but I think that’s what it was.”

“The old royal scientist was in a lab accident.”

“Yeah, um, about that… It’s not important right now. That’s in the past, and, well, if we don’t do something soon, ‘the past’ won’t mean much anymore.”

“Then we go to the lab. Sans was right to decide such a plan - Alphys is as brilliant as they come. She will no doubt know what to do.”

“Okay, we can agree to disagree, right? But that’s not the present problem. What do we do about him? We can’t just leave him here!”

“He hasn’t fallen down, has he?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Try pushing him forward. See what he does. If I know anything about monster instinct, he won’t fall over - he’ll just take a step.”

Sans didn’t like the way the voices were talking. They were treating him like a child or some fragile thing on the brink of shattering. He was not a child; why did he have to prove this over and over? He wanted to prove it to the voices - it’d be easy, really. All he had to do was make a motion, respond to a question, do literally anything. 

But instead he began thinking - remembering - again.

* * *

_ “Wh- get back. No, you cannot be in here. I- oh, for surface’s sake - Sans! Control your brother!” _

_ “Sorry, G,” he said, scooping up the rambunctious Papyrus from the lab’s floor. He did so with great difficulty, though, considering the child was nearly Sans’ height, despite his own 7 year head start.  _

_ “What have I told you time and time again, Sans?” _

_ “Sorry, Dr. Gaster.” _

_ “You have to keep him out of the lab; someone is going to get hurt at this rate.” _

_ “Well, it’s not his fault. You can’t expect him to just stay in his room all day- ow! Paps, stop that!” _

_ “Take him back to the apartment, then. Let him ruin that instead.” _

_ “But he’d be all-” Sans broke off, sighing. “I’ll make sure he stays off the lab floor.” _

* * *

Oh, of course, the fights. The countless and endless arguments blaming Sans for the things he couldn’t control. “Why is your brother bothering me?”, “Where is the paperwork Alphys was taking care of?”, “What do you expect me to get from these readings?”, “Bring me this - no that’s wrong - sigh - I’ll do it myself.”

Sans couldn’t feel anything but bitterness toward the scientist, and he wasn’t sure he needed to. If, by chance, he truly owed anyone something, it certainly wasn’t forgiveness, and it certainly wasn’t for Gaster. 

“Sans! Just snap out of it!”

He wasn’t sure what had happened to the voices’ conversation while he had checked out of the present, but it seemed to have take a turn for the… something. He wasn’t sure if he could call it worse. Maybe… impatient? Frantic? There was certainly a word for it, but Sans was too preoccupied to scour his reservoir of vocabulary.

“Sans, come on, help me out here!” 

* * *

_ “Help me!”  _

_ The scream could hardly be called words, with its shrill pitch obscuring the differentiation between syllables, but Sans assumed that was what it had said. Generally, when people scream, they want to be helped out of their current situation. So, he followed the voice, trying to decipher an order amongst the maze of passages and walkways. As long as she kept screaming, he could find her. _

_ But maybe she realized this, too. After the one scream and a much quieter, more muffled one, the place fell silent, the only sound coming from the hissing of ventilation pipes and the sizzling of the misty chasms below.  And, of course, his own footfalls pounding against the rickety metal. He was sure he had a general idea of where he was going, but following it didn’t exactly prove easy.  _

_ It was the - he skidded to a stop before - the organization of the place was - terrified eyes met his - he would never understand Gaster’s thought process if - but the terror had changed to a blissful apology - he would never understand humans if they were all like this - a foot stepped free of its inky restraints - what was she thinking, going off like this? - before the echo of the word was gone, they disappeared from sight - he woke in a haze of confusion. _

* * *

He looked up, the bones of his neck crackling together in protest to their sudden movement. Concern and relief written across most of her features, Nima turned to him, and a familiar terror hidden behind her eyes betrayed her true thoughts. 

“Sans…” she breathed. Her hands fluttering through the air, unsure of where to land. Finally, they flopped back down to her sides, her curious gaze not wavering from him at all. “Are you okay?”

When he spoke, he was surprised to find his voice steadier than he had expected. The words came out a little harsher than he meant, but he supposed that, in the beginning, his intention hadn’t been harsh enough for what he was feeling. 

“You,” he said slowly, feeling the old sensation of disappearing pupils, “have a lot of explaining to do.”

She gave a small nod, the look in her eyes both defeated and guilty. “Yeah, I know. I’ll tell you at Alphys’ lab, okay?”

Her voice was too gentle, too soft, and he knew she was still viewing him as the fragile thing that had been all but broken just moments ago. Her pity made him sick, which, of course, confused him. Hadn’t he always wanted someone to pay attention to his plights? Hadn’t he wanted someone to acknowledge his hardships?

He had, but not like this. He had never wanted pity. Pity was for things that couldn’t be fixed. He was not broken; he would not be pitied. He wanted some compassion for once in his miserable life. He wanted someone to share his burdens with, not someone to watch him struggle from afar. He wanted a friend, and, at this point, he didn’t know what she was.

“On the way.”

“Hm?”

“You’ll tell me on the way to the lab.”

She looked ready to protest, but gave up with a small sigh. “Okay, yes, I’ll explain on the way. Where do you want me to start?”

“How about why you tried to kill Gaster?”

The tension in the room was so thick that Sans imagined even Frisk and their knife couldn’t cut through it. Three faces gaped at him, seemingly unsure of what they had just heard, and the fourth stared him directly in the eyes, concern returning to knit her features back together.

“You don’t have to sound so angry about it. I did it for you, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. That’s the whole point. And whatever twisted reasoning you have that allows you to worry about Gaster hurting someone when you were the one who hurt him in the first place - whatever twisted reasoning you have that makes you think that hurting others for my sake is okay… that’s not something I’ll ever understand.”

She wasted no time in responding, only giving a slight pause to assure herself that he was finished. 

“Oh, Sans. You will understand. I promise.”

He broke off his stare, pushing past her toward the door. He didn’t look back, nor did she look after him. Of course, she did not need to look at him to hear his final remark. 

“Never make a promise you can’t keep. You’ll just have a bad time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, um, wow - two weeks without a chapter and I am so sorry! I've become so busy and you know how finals are. I never thought I'd get this done, but we're finally here. Remember when I thought this would be 8 chapters? Ha, wow, was I funny. I honestly don't know how much longer this will go on for, because the actual, present plot is almost over, but the backstory and flashbacks still have so much more to them! I mean, we've barely even addressed Flowey here! The companion piece, Charity, is going to be the full story, start to finish, of Nima's time in the Underground, so I don't know how much of it I'll save for that instead of including here. Nevertheless, I must thank you again for reading this far, and for being ever so patient with my erratic updates. Love you all! <3  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	12. The Me That You See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hey! I'm out of town and super busy, and I had to post this from my phone, so sorry about any formatting issues! I'll fix them when I get back home ^.^

    “Sans, slow down! I know you’re upset, but you just don’t understand yet. When you hear the whole story, you’ll get it, okay? There are some things you haven’t remembered, and they’re really crucial to the story!”

    “Maybe I’d remember more if everything wasn’t such ‘a long story’. You’ve got until we reach the lab, so start talking, kid.”

    Her flinch was practically audible. The shuffle of feet tripping over a nonexistent obstacle and the hitch of breath from behind him told him all he needed to know. But he didn’t look back or slow down. He didn’t owe anyone anything. He had spent his whole life owing people things and taking blame for everything under the cavern ceilings. It was his turn to be owed, and he was owed an explanation.

    It didn’t occur to him, that, by demanding an explanation, he was fulfilling his own debt of owing Nima the chance to explain. But, by that logic, they both owed each other a lot of things, and Sans was really quite terrible at keeping track of debts.

    “Okay, okay - I don’t know where to start, though.”

    “I’ve already said: start at why you tried to kill Gaster.”

    “I _know_ that, Sans! God, just stop for a second!” Her last word was punctuated by a rough hand on his arm, yanking him to a stop and spinning him around. The rest of their little party, a good distance behind them, sped up at the sight of the commotion.

    “Get off,” Sans said, shaking his arm free of her grasp.

    “Please, Sans, I can’t do it like this. Angry is not the right mood to go into this with!”

    “I can go into it with whatever mood I want. You are not the boss of me. No one is.”

    “Yes, yes, you’re right, and I know that, but that doesn’t mean you can’t listen to others. I’m not ordering you, okay? I’m asking you to calm down and be patient with me.”

    “I’ve doled out enough patience for a lifetime - or several, to be more accurate - so if that is you asking, this is me refusing.” He turned away once more, taking a few steps ahead, faltering only when he didn’t hear the frantic slapping of bare feet behind him. “This is usually the part where you chase after me and get annoyed again,” he commented lazily, half-turning around.

    To his surprise, her hardened exterior seemed to have cracked again. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and, despite her best efforts, her stern look was marred by a trembling lip.

    “Why are you being so terrible?” Her voice came out higher, quieter, and in a tone all too reminiscent of a memory.

* * *

  _“Why are you so terrible to me?”_

* * *

“I am not terrible,” he said slowly. “I have forgotten and forgiven and been patient over and over again - times that are nearly countless except for my records of the kid’s resets. Those are the only numbers I can put to a situation like this, and they are the terrible thing. I am as nice and compassionate as they come in situations like this.”

* * *

 _“_ _How many times have you dared to defy me, and how many times have I given you grace? The numbers do not lie, Sans; I am as forgiving as they come.”_

* * *

Sans hated the parallel. He couldn’t be turning into Gaster; he was better than that. He had compassion and patience and… he _had_ compassion and patience, he realized. but he didn’t necessarily have them now.

    “You call everyone else children. You blame others for your problems. You mope and swing your moods left and right instead of trying to solve the problem. And you look at me like I’m your enemy. Sans, you are being the very definition of terrible, in my book.” The tremble in her voice was growing, and she looked briefly over her shoulder to see how far away the rest of the group was.

    “How else do you expect me to see you? What am I supposed to see you as if I don’t know who you are?”

    “What am I to you, Sans?”

    “What do you-”

    “What would you call me? If someone asked, ‘Who is that?’ what would you say?”

    “You’re just Nima. That’s all I know about you. What, do you seriously want to be called the Timekeeper?”

    “I’m not talking about names, Sans! What about friendship? Do you really not remember any of it? All my effort - was that for nothing?”

    “I don’t know what you want from me!” He was yelling again. It was still a strange feeling, but perhaps stranger was the knowledge that it was growing more familiar by the minute. It seemed the two of them couldn’t have a single conversation without someone raising their voice.

    “I just-”

    “What do you expect from me?” he interrupted. “What do you expect me to do? Become all buddy-buddy with the person who killed my Uncle? My only connection to my family outside of Papyrus, was erased from my world, my mind, my very existence because of you!”

    “The you that I knew would have wanted that,” she replied, her quiet murmur a stark contrast to his own yells.

    “That’s not me, then, is it? Whatever you were to me - to that me - I don’t know that now. The me you see when you look at me is not the me that I am. My last memory of you is when I was fourteen. You’ve been out of my life for longer than you were in it. What do you expect to come from that?”

    “Fifteen years…” she whispered. “I was with you for fifteen years. Even if you didn’t realize it, I was with you, even after I wasn’t there, physically. What do you think kept me grounded and conscious in that void? I existed outside the timelines, watching them scroll by like reels of film, every one becoming intertwined with my very soul. But I focused on you. I watched you grow from that very first day without Gaster - the first new timeline in over a thousand years. I saw everything, Sans: everything you went through, and everything you did. I saw all the times you tried and failed and sobbed and lost yourself, and I saw all the times you were so close and happiness was just within reach before it was ripped away by the end of the timeline.

    “I know who you are, Sans. I know the current you as much as anyone, and this isn’t it.”

    “Did you really?”

    “Huh?”

    “Did you really exist outside of time? You never answered me, when I asked earlier. And don’t say it’s a long story. I think we’ve established that we’ve got all the time in the universe - literally.”

    “Yes, I did. I mean, you can’t exist completely out of time, or consciousness can’t exist, right?”

    “Yeah, seems reasonable.”

    “But I existed as far out on the edge of time as I could. I existed in time itself, not a neat little package like a timeline. I mean, that’s all I can really tell you… I don’t know how it works, only that I was there and there were things I could do.”

    “Things?”

    “If I tried - and I mean _really_ tried - I could interact with the timelines, at least a little bit. I could pick images from one timeline and drop them into another, so long as there was a vessel for them.”   

    “Alright, you lost me.”

    “I handpicked your memories. Whenever they reset and created a new timeline, I realized you didn’t remember everything - or, in some cases, anything - so I pulled images and events from your other selves and shared them with you. You know, you have an extraordinary connection to the void, Sans. Sorry, ‘the void’ is what I call the place I was in. But your mind was so open to my influence. Everyone else was very closed off and hard to reach - except for maybe Asgore,” she gestured to the recently arrived group, “Frisk, and I think Alphys, too.”

    “What about me?” The shrill voice belonged to the flower, and both Sans and Nima jumped, seeming to have forgotten that it could speak.

    “No, you’re a stubborn little shit,” she said blankly.

    “Well, f-”

    “That’s enough of that, children,” Asgore interrupted as Frisk covered the flower’s mouth. “Please, continue your story, but perhaps as we walk? We still have a long way to go to get to the lab.”

    The group set off, this time Sans and Nima lagging behind, and she resumed her explanation. “So, I was dropping memories in as much as I could in the beginning, but then I noticed that it was having a sort of… negative effect on those of you that got the memories.”

    “Going for understatement of the century, are ya?”

    “Okay, a very negative effect. Happy? I thought I should stop because it was hurting you guys, but then, while Alphys and Asgore funneled their fleeting memories into research and the back of their mind, respectively, you let it consume you. You were torturing yourself over things you couldn’t remember… so I thought it best to just keep giving them to you.

    “But then there was this one reset that wasn’t even quite complete. It started weaving a new timeline to branch off that one old spot, but before it could attach, the timelines all sort of… I don’t know… shifted? And it attached in the wrong place. Everything was half reset and memories were gone, some of the dead stayed dead and some came back, and I couldn’t reach it. The whole timeline was like… closed off. And it hurt-”

    “How could it hurt? Could you really feel things in that void place?”

    “It hurt my soul. You saw it, with Gaster: my soul started cracking. The resets before that… those weren’t that bad. They were just a sort of twinge - a minor annoyance. But this reset defied the laws of time, and even if it was just for a moment, it was all it needed. These new resets, bound to this broken point in time, they messed up everything. In the beginning, I didn’t understand how to get into them - I couldn’t give you memories. And it got even weirder, too. The timelines didn’t just branch off of that one point - everything that branched off there had thousands of its own branches. And all of those branches had thousands of their own branches. There was so much going on; I didn’t even know where to start!

    “And then there was the anomaly. It was this strange little hotspot of time magic that stood out like a beacon, drawing my attention to whatever timeline it was in. And it was only ever in one timeline. When a new timeline branched off, it was because the anomaly had jumped back to that point and gone off the track. The anomaly had full control over almost everything. There seemed to be set spots where it could jump around to, but it jumped around so often, I could barely keep track of it. It left behind timelines full of confused and broken monsters, deaths caused by something that didn’t exist, and you, remembering the things that didn’t exist.

    “Frisk.”

    “Yeah. Frisk. I don’t understand it - what makes them so powerful? What gave them such great control over time, and why did it cause so much trouble?”

    “Determination.”

    “Hm?”

    “It’s called Determination. Alphys can explain it a little better, but basically it’s the will to carry on - the will to change fate.”

    “The will to bend time,” she said, a look of clarity falling across her face. “But why Frisk and the flower? Why them and not any of the other monsters down here?”

    “A monster can’t have Determination; It interferes with our magic - Determination is strictly human.”

    “But... the flower has it.”

    “I have a name, you know!”

    The flower’s protests were ignored by everyone.

    “The flower has determination? I don’t even… that shouldn’t be possible. If it’s a flower monster, it should have turned to dust by now.”

    “I don’t know, Sans. I may be all-seeing, but that’s different from all-knowing.”

    “You called yourself an ‘all-knowing being with powers beyond compare’, if I remember correctly,” Sans pointed out.

    He was met with an eye roll. “I might have been exaggerating a little… or a lot… That’s now important now!”

    “Alright, I’ll get off your case. What did you mean, though, by the anomaly changing everything. Didn’t the anomaly start the resets?”

    “No! The anomaly started the resets that hurt and messed up time. The resets before that were done by the flower.”

    Sans’ footsteps faltered, and the two stopped.

    “Sans? Are you okay?”

* * *

_There was something in the snow - something small and bright amidst a pile of dust and red cloth._

_Something small and yellow and cackling._

_Something now familiar._

* * *

Sans didn’t reply, instead pushing roughly past Nima and bursting into the group ahead. He lunged for the flower, but Frisk pulled it away as Asgore restrained him.

    “Sans, what are you doing?” Asgore grunted. Sans wasn’t particularly strong or heavy, especially compared to the double-or-triple-the-size-of-him Asgore, but there was something to be said about the force one could exert when driven by rage.

    “That thing killed my brother!”

    The flower wrapped its roots around Frisk’s shoulders, shifting to sit on their shoulder and freeing their hands.

    **Sans, I’m sorry. It was Chara - I thought you understood-**

“Not you. That,” he said, jerking his head at the flower.

    “Hmm, guilty as charged, I suppose!”

    Frisk turned to the flower, the horror expressed in their face greater than any other emotion he had seen grace their normally blank features. **You did?** They asked, their signs slow and trembling.

    “Oh, use your words. Chara was never like this - you’re just like them, except so much more _difficult!_ ”

    Frisk didn’t look fazed by the outburst. Sans, had he not been consumed by the rage of learning of the flower’s deeds, might have wondered if they had heard such a remark many time before, but, alas, it would remain an unanswered question.

    For a moment, all was silent; even Sans’ shoes had stopped scraping against the concrete in their frantic attempt to break him free of Asgore’s hold. He was still leaning forward, however, so his ultimate destination was the ground once Asgore’s grip slackened and let him go.

    No one paid attention to the fallen skeleton’s groans.

    “How do you know that name?” Asgore asked, his eyes now trained on the flower.

    A pregnant pause hung silence between the two.

    “As King of Monsters, I demand you answer me. How do you know that name?” Asgore’s composure was quickly unraveling. His voice becoming wobbly and his expression growing frantic - or angry - or some horrific mixture of the two.

    “It’s me,” the flower said, its voice slightly quieter than before, the angry edge nearly gone. There was another pause, wherein the flower’s expression seemed to convey hoping for something. But, when its wishes went unanswered, it finished the statement. “Asriel.”

    The name caused Sans to nearly fall over in his state of halfway-up. That name had gone unspoken for decades, according to every monster he’d ever met. True to that fact, he had never heard it spoken aloud. His only knowledge of the fabled prince came from a written story detailing monster interaction with humans over the years.

    But, this was a flower. How could a flower be the dead child of their king?

    The flower must be lying. The flower couldn’t possibly be a dead monster -  monsters stay dead. A horrific thought struck him at this moment: should he tell Asgore that Toriel was dead? Of course, it would raise some questions as to how Sans knew Toriel, how he knew she was dead, and why he didn’t protect her. But, then again, he was sure that, by now, him knowing things he wasn’t supposed to know was just sort of a given.

    But Asgore’s grief-stricken face showed a belief different from Sans’. He truly believed this flower was his child, and he was dealing with more than enough resurfaced grief to deal with the knowledge of Toriel’s death. So, Sans remained quiet, gratefully watching a scene in which, for once, he wasn’t the one being shocked out of confusion and into silence.

    “Oh quit gaping at me like that! Like you wouldn’t try killing everyone if you came back as a _flower! A flower!_ Do you know how impossible it is to do anything as a flower? All I can do is talk and kill - and I ran out of things to say! I tried everything - every insult, every compliment, every question - _everything!_ I knew every response to anything I could ever say, and it got _boring._ So I had to change things up. It was experimental - oh, yes, just experimental - at first. But then i realized I never felt _guilty._ I never felt remorse for what I did… and it was _glorious._ It was _freeing_. I hadn’t felt anything since I opened these beady little eyes but then I did feel something. I felt satisfaction. Killing could be anything I wanted it to be - slow and methodical, furious and quick, surprising and erratic - and I got to try it over and over again until the smiley trashbag caught up with me.”

    Heads swiveled to look at Sans, who merely shrugged. “Hey, first I’m hearing this, too,” he said in defense.

    “Oh, yes, of _course_ you wouldn’t remember. Of _course_ you would forget me like all the rest. Of _course_ you would block me from your mind to strip yourself of the guilt you should be feeling. You _killed_ me! Over and over and over and over you beat me into the ground! I could never kill _you_ , and it drove me insane. Why would you, of all monsters, be the one to stop me? If I could have just beaten you, I wouldn’t have had to reset again. If I had beaten you, the kid wouldn’t have been able to fall down here. All of this is _your fault!_ All of it!”

    Now, Sans had had plenty of blame in his life, and he had vowed never to do his best to never take it again. Luckily for him, there was really no way for him to take this blame, even if he wanted to. This flower was clearly off its rocker, and Sans almost felt kind of bad for it.

    Almost.

    “Okay, are we going to sit here and listen to a blithering flower, or are we going to go to Alphys’ lab? There will be plenty of time to figure out this whole flower business, and maybe Alphys can experiment on it - shed some light on the situation, right?”

    “Experiment?! How sadistic can you get? I am a living being! I have rights!” The flower’s protests were, sadly, not ignored this time.

    “He’s right, Sans,” Nima said from behind him. “We can’t just use him against his will; we can’t take control of him - that’s what he did to others.”

    “We need to know what’s going on, and experimenting may be the only way to find out. Science usually proves to be helpful and accurate.”

    “So, what? Are you just going to throw me under the bus, too? Are you going to have Alphys experiment on me? How about Frisk? Gaster? Are you just going to throw a bunch of free-willed subjects at her and strip them down to just subjects? I know you want to fix things, Sans, but that’s just crazy!”

    “We do what we have to,” Sans said, eyeing Asgore. The king averted his eyes, guilt tinging their edges. “Don’t we?”

    “Those were different times, Sans.”

    “No, they weren’t! There’s no such thing as a different time! Either we always do what we have to to get by, or we never do; we don’t get to pick and choose just because it’s a hard decision - that’s the whole idea! For surface’s sake, am I the only one here with a clear head?”

    “Sans-”

    “We are going to the laboratory, and we are fixing this. Anyone who has an argument can take it up with no one and go off on their own. Rob a store, solve a puzzle, drown in the waterfall, fall in lava for all I care - just don’t argue with the plan again.”

    “Sans, I think-”

    “Don’t. Argue.”

    “Sans, what is happening to you? You used to be so… happy. What changed?”

    He turned slowly, meeting her eyes with the emptiness of his own. “What changed? My life turned into an experiment run by a flower and a kid. I watched my friends and family _die_ , over and over and over. Don’t ask me what changed. You already know more about it than I do.”

    “Okay, so your life kinda sucks - doesn’t everyone’s?”

    “Don’t compare my suffering to your petty problems.”

    “Okay, see, right now, I could pull the “trapped in a timeless void” card, but I’m not going to, because that’s not the point. Your life sucks, yeah? Well, news flash: it sucked before, too. You weren’t exactly happy with Gaster and your situation, but that didn’t prevent you from being a decent and happy person! Just because your situation sucks doesn’t mean you have to be a jerk! God, if you were like this when you were with Gaster, I probably would have just walked out and left myself to the mercy of the nearest monster, rather than stick around with you.”

    Sans faltered, pinpricks of pupils fading back into existence. Was he really being that… terrible? “Stop exaggerating. We all want to survive.” She couldn’t have meant it.

    “I wouldn’t want to survive if my existence was miserable - if the only person I could interact with treated me like dirt. If you…” she paused, taking a shaky breath and swallowing hard. “If I was just a burden to you. I wouldn’t want to. Do you remember what I said about my soul? Don’t you remember what I offered?”

    He didn’t. Or, perhaps he did. He couldn’t really concentrate when there was a human on the brink of tears next to him, and the world ending - though he was fairly used to it by now - didn’t help, either. “I don’t think so…”

    But as he spoke, his words became a lie. The memory flickered in the back of his mind, and suddenly he was back in the whirlwind of memories that had flown by when he had sat at Grillby’s all that time ago. This time, though, he was in control, and he focused all his thought into navigating to the memory he wanted. And whether the collapse of the world was helping or if he was just really remembering more, he supposed he would never know, but, either way, the memory was clearer and more detailed than ever before.

* * *

_“Do you want my soul?” She was crying - or, at least, she was trying to - her body was caved in on itself, her shoulders shaking and her eyes red, but no tears streaked tracks down her cheeks. And, despite her efforts to sit straight and look tall, she just looked so small and weak. Her eyes were so dark - such a stark contrast from the first time he had seen her; her skin seemed to cling to her bones; her expression was no longer sad or worried or happy or fascinated - just… tired._

_“Do I - what?” He hadn’t been expecting such a question. Did she not understand what she was offering? Souls were such a huge thing for monsters - it was easy for him to forget that humans knew next to nothing about them. He glanced at the brown heart floating in front of her - it was shining and healthy, strong and gleaming, and the juxtaposition of such a soul made her physical appearance even more saddening. He wanted to ask if she was okay, but he already knew the answer. She would say she was fine, he would ask again, and she would tell him to stop worrying. It was a futile effort, though; at this point, all he could do was worry when he looked at her._

_“You said you needed souls to break the barrier. Do you want mine?” She was persistent; he’d give her that. Her expression was strange, though, almost as though it wasn’t quite what he was expecting. There was something, however small, hidden behind the gaunt mask of fatigue. It almost looked sad, or pitying._

* * *

What could she be pitying him for? What made her so sad and… frightened? Was she scared of him? Sans couldn’t remember what had happened before the conversation - that was the pitfall of almost all his memories: context was not optional, but his mind sure thought it was.

* * *

_“What you’re offering - I can’t take that. That’s death. I can’t do that to you.”_

_She relaxed a little at this, the fear dissipating slightly._

_“Why not? Wouldn’t it help so many monsters?” Her voice was still wary, as though she was testing his response carefully, possibly to confirm or deny what fear still lingered._

_“I promised you I’d keep you safe. I intend to keep that promise.”_

* * *

“Why would you offer that?” He said, coming back to the present and meeting her eyes again.

    “So you do remember?”

    “Why would you offer your life up? The whole point of hiding you was to keep you alive.”

    “Sans, do you remember what I looked like? When that conversation took place?”

    He didn’t speak, instead trying his best _not_ to remember the gaunt, hollowed cheeks and tired, dull, eyes - _well, shit, there it is._ He must have flinched, or otherwise given clue to his mental activity, because she continued.

    “Yeah, that. I remember that. I couldn’t even cry. I kept sobbing and shaking and I had to hold a pillow to my face just to muffle the sound, but I still couldn’t cry. I offered you my life because I was _already_ dying, Sans. Humans, we don’t work like monsters do. We can’t just live off magic - we need water and vitamins and nutrients and I couldn’t get those down here. You could barely bring me water three times a week because Gaster didn’t want you spilling in the lab - you snuck me out back to Waterfall once and I practically swam through the garbage dump - I drank the garbage dump’s water because I was so freaking thirsty and _anything_ was better than nothing. And then I got sick because of it and I kept apologizing and you were freaking out because you didn’t know what to do and thought it was weird, and I kept telling you it was my fault and that I could just hide if you needed to go back to the lab, but you insisted because you were worried about me, and the first time you heard my stomach growl you jumped out of your chair because it scared you, and you didn’t know what to do when I bled and-”

    “Hey, hey, stop - stop it.”

    “You don’t know how humans work, Sans. You didn’t know and I’m almost positive you still don’t know! My point… my point is that I wasn’t meant to survive for extended periods of time down here. No human was. That’s why I offered my soul - I wanted you to know it was okay to take it if I died.”

    “Why didn’t you tell me?”

    “How do you know I didn’t?”  
    “I’m not joking around. If you’d told me, I could have - I don’t know - worked faster, maybe? I could have tried harder to find a way to get you out. I could have-”

    “Sans, what did I tell you?”

    “You’ve told me a lot of things.”

    “What did I say before I started telling you about how I got here?”

    “I don’t know - something about it being a long story, probably.”

    “Really, Sans? C’mon, you can’t complain about not remembering things if you aren’t even going to try to remember things that happened twenty minutes ago.”

    “Can’t you just tell me?”

    “Sans! Oh, fine, whatever. I told you that you’ll want to blame yourself for things, and that you shouldn’t because you aren’t to blame - I don’t blame you, Sans. Why do you have to blame yourself?”

    “Because I could have done something. All this time, I could have done _something_. I could have stopped the kid, I could have-”

    “But you couldn’t have. That’s the point, Sans! You _have_ done those things, and they didn’t work! Okay? Get over yourself - you aren’t responsible for saving the world!”

    “Who else is going to do it?” he snapped. The tension between them seemed to stretch taut, and he noticed that she, too, was getting better at this. She didn’t appear to be on the brink of tears this time, so he figured that was an improvement… sort of. Was it really an improvement if they were getting used to arguing? It certainly made things easier and less emotional, but was that really a good thing? Shouldn’t they be trying to _not_ argue at all? Sans wasn’t sure anymore. It felt like it had been forever since he last had a functional relationship with anyone - truth be told, maybe it had. He wouldn’t have called his relationship with Papyrus dysfunctional, but it certainly wasn’t the most functional of things; all this time, there had always seemed to be a communication gap between them.

    And his relationship with Gaster? Well, he wasn’t sure he wanted to put a name to it. For all that he could remember, Gaster hadn’t treated him like a son, but he hadn’t treated him like an employee, either. It was almost like he was part of the experiment - like he was nothing to Gaster but a subject.

    And, maybe, he was. Everything he had seen - and everything Nima had said - seemed to point to Gaster using him and making his life generally suck. And there was that one memory that really bugged Sans. He’d only caught a glimpse of it, but it was painful and exhausting and he hadn’t wanted to feel it again. Gaster was there, but he wasn’t doing anything. Was Gaster the cause of such suffering?

    He didn’t particularly want to think about it, and, luckily, he didn’t have to, for Nima spoke again, this time quieter and calmer. _Well,_ he thought, _at least one of us knows how to end arguments._

   “We are, Sans. We are all going to save the world, and we’re going to do it together. Because you don’t know how to save the world, and I don’t know how to save the world, and I’d bet anything that Alphys and Asgore and Frisk - none of them know how to save the world. But, maybe, if we actually help each other instead of arguing and being drama queens, we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

As much as he wanted to win their argument, Sans had to admit that she had a pretty good point.

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! I can't even begin to say how sorry I am that it's been so long! What is this now, two weeks? I promise promise promise that once exams are over and school is out, the update schedule will go back to normal (if this fic isn't over by then - one, maybe two chapters to go? - ah, I shouldn't guess. Last time I guessed was that it'd be an 8 chapter fic... We'll just see what happens) Anyway, 3 weeks 'till summer, so even if this gets finished, be on the lookout for my other upcoming works!  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	13. Enemy

The two continued to stare each other, each one burning the other with their gaze, albeit very different burns. Sans knew what his stare was meant to do, but was unsure of whether Nima actually felt the hatred he was pouring into it. He didn’t hate her - or, maybe he did. He couldn’t exactly be sure who and what he hated at this point - but rather the situation. At some point in his life, it could have been said that Sans hated change; it could have been said that he liked to grow used to the monotony of daily life, and that anything that upset the balance upset him as well. At another point in his life, it probably could have been said that all he wanted was change; after all, living in a continuous cycle of monotony and being forced to do the exact same thing over and over didn’t exactly lend itself to enjoyment.

At this point, however? Not even Sans knew what could be said. He had wanted change - he had wanted to break out of the kid’s resetting frenzy - but this? This was entirely too much change… or, was it? Maybe this was what he had hoped for. Maybe he had hoped for a change so drastic that it could never be reset. But, then again, the opinions and hopes of depressed skeletons were rarely asked for.

He did not know that Nima did not feel hatred in his gaze. He did not know that instead of portraying anger and standoffish walls, he was broadcasting a call for help. His stare was not a burning hate, but instead the bubbling heat of a pot ready to boil over and ruin everything around him. It was from this stare that she drew the fear that shone in her body language. But, Sans didn’t know that.

Despite her clear trembling, Sans was unnerved by her glare. It held something he could not comprehend, and the unknown had become a source of discomfort for him. As a scientist, he had always held a fascination with the unknown, always desperate to unravel its mysteries and figure it out. But as a judge? As a bystander of destruction? The unknown was too far out. The unknown was beyond his scope of interest when his world was collapsing around him. His own mind was unknown enough for him. The unknown was his past, and the unknown could be left to Alphys.

    So, it was the knowledge behind her eyes, unknown to him, that disturbed his stony exterior. Distant footsteps alerted him to the fact that the rest of their group had left them behind, and he heard Asgore’s deep voice ask quietly, “Are you sure we can leave them alone? They seem to have the potential to try to kill each other.”

    A funny feeling overtook Sans. He remembered a distant time, or distant timeline, to be more accurate, wherein he had not been proud of his abilities. There had been too much potential for harm gone uncontrolled, and he hadn’t wanted to harm anyone. But then Frisk came along - and, apparently the flower before them - and he had begun to harm out of vengeance. And, at some point that he could not specifically identify, it had started to feel _good_ . The rush of the battle, watching the light leave his enemy’s eyes - it all felt _so good_. After a while, the part of him that had treated the kid like a friend had died, or, at the very least, retreated deep within him.

    But, he didn’t like to kill, did he? As soon as the kid had stopped being the threat - as soon as Gaster, the bigger unknown, the bigger threat, had appeared, he had directed all those things that felt so good at him. He had protected the kid, hadn’t he? He was a good person, right? He was a bringer of justice - a good and proper judge - wasn’t he?

    So why did Nima - why did everyone - look at him as though he was the enemy?

    “I could stand here forever, Sans,” she said, her voice breaking through their stalemate.

    “Don’t you have your human needs to take care of?”

    She laughed. It wasn’t a true laugh, like she thought it was really funny or anything; it wasn’t like Gaster’s extended laughter at Sans’ actions; it was a soft, short bark of laughter - a scoff, really, more than anything else.

    “What’s so funny?” he asked tightly, his glare remaining steady.

    “Sans, you’re a scientist. Do you really think this is my body? Do you really think that by some feat of magic, my body survived that?”

    “Survived _what?”_ he snapped, the anger at being kept in the dark returning.

Her posture - and by extension, her stare - softened a little. “Right. I - sorry, I keep forgetting that you… forgot.”

“I don’t need a prelude. Just talk.”

“Okay, fine, jeez. That whole thing with Gaster - I’m assuming you saw me try to push him, right?”

    “You did a little more than just try.”

    “If you want the story, you can’t interrupt the story, okay?  Look, I’m not going to try and justify my reasons for doing that. You’ve made it clear that you don’t care and that I’m a terrible person, alright? I get it. So I’m not going to talk about that part anymore. I’m just giving you the facts here. It’s a purely objective retelling of what happened, ‘kay? Can you maybe handle that for five minutes?”

    Sans didn’t reply except for a little harrumph.

    “I saw how Gaster treated you. It was terrible, Sans, it was… disgusting! You were supposed to be family and - sorry, objective, right. Okay. Um, you and Alphys went to do some experiments somewhere in the lab while Gaster was going to go check the readings and progress of something called the Core. I chose to go after him. I didn’t have a plan, but I decided to think of one on the way, and followed him after he left. I stole a cloak from your closet - still dunno why you had that - and covered myself to avoid other monsters seeing me. I used the computer in your room to access the map of the underground and try to see where this ‘Core’ thing was. After I found it, I followed him through this place - Hotland? - and through this old apartment complex. I lost him after that, because monsters in the apartments stopped to ask who I was. I think I gave some sort of vague reply and ran off through the doors I had seen Gaster go through. It was this really… weird place. All pipes and tubing and these hissing noises coming from below, and it was so hot in there - really, it was sweltering, so I took off the cloak and hoped I wouldn’t run into anyone.

    “This place was - I mean it was practically a maze. I tried to follow the distant sound of Gaster’s footsteps, but it was like they were everywhere, and I was so tired and weak, so it was even harder for me to focus on anything. Finally, I found this big ladder, and figured there was nowhere else to go but up, right? So I climb the whole thing - by the way, metal ladder in searing hot place? Not a good idea - ugh, so many blisters. At the top was this little observatory sort of area. There were all these windows overlooking this place, and it was actually quite beautiful from the top. There was also a door. A closed door. So, of course, I put the cloak back on and opened it.

    “Gaster was already looking at me before I had the door all the way open. He asked who I was, how I got here, etc, and I just stared at him. I had caught glimpses of him before through your door, but this was something entirely different. He was just so… I don’t know… I guess it doesn’t matter. Just the facts, Nima. Anyway, when I didn’t answer, he came closer, trying to see under the cloak, and I sort of scurried away and asked why he treated you the way he did. It, um, didn’t make him happy to hear that question, and he became pretty angry. He sent something - some sort of magic thingy - at me, I jumped out of the way, and we continued like this for a while. He kept asking who I was, I kept asking him about you, and, at this point, you must have already noticed I was gone and started on your way here. So, we kept sort of… fighting? I don’t know if you could call it fighting. He mostly was trying to get my hood off and see who I was, or maybe hold me in place for a while, but was having no luck so far.

Then, he did manage that first one, as the hood came off during one of my dodges, and we both just froze. It was the earlier situation, but reversed, ‘cause he was staring at me with this expression - oh it was so weird - it was like he was scared, but also kind of fascinated. And then, when he recovered from the shock before I did, sent this sort of black tendril thing that wrapped around my legs and held me in place.

    “And then you showed up. You practically skidded into the doorway - I don’t know how you managed that, considering you had to come up a ladder, but, anyway - you skidded in and the look on your face… I don’t think I’ll ever forget that look, Sans. You just looked so… I don’t know. It wasn’t scared, but it wasn’t calm either; it was sort of betrayed, but not quite. You know, for a skeleton, you’re quite expressive,” she laughed, but the laugh turned into a nervous chuckle as Sans held his stony stare. “Okay,” she muttered. “You, um, you told Gaster to let me go, I think. And he said something like, um, something about a project? Or something like that, anyway. Maybe an experiment. I don’t know; I was sort of terrified and in the middle of being traumatized, so… y’know.”

    Sans could feel his expression shift and relax as the memory started flowing back. He readied himself to lose reality, but soon realized that it was weird - really weird. The memory looked broken, all its pieces fracturing and separating, their cracks filled in with darkness beyond belief. And in the darkness, other memories began to take shape, memories of a typical day with Papyrus: playing and laughing, wrangling the small skeleton in to keep him from getting hurt, everything that Sans remembered from before they moved to Snowdin. But, he was still in the Core, wasn’t he? Nima and Gaster were still standing in front of him, weren’t they?

    The answer was both yes and no. Both memories were in front of him, overlapping noises and images sending pounding aches through his skull. It was similar to what he had seen with Nima’s soul in his, but not nearly to such a degree.

    “What-” he gasped out, both in the memory and in reality. Eyes turned toward him, filled with anger or fear or hope.

    And then eyes turned to mouths, making noises that could not be translated by his head into words. Finally came to hands - the awful signs flashing in front of his eyes and making him feel sick.

* * *

    **_Quite the interesting personal project, this is. I know you won’t mind if I perform a few experiments with this one, as well._ **

**** The sounds began to take form into noises, and the glimpses of the other memory began to close, fading into the background.

* * *

 **** _“Let her go.”_

_“Why? It’s quite valuable - haven’t I taught you not to throw out samples until there’s nothing more you can get from them? I’m sure this one has plenty more to give.”_

_She, however, still did not speak. It was strange to see her full of fear - true fear. When they had met, she had been afraid, but that wasn’t truly fear, was it? The look in her eyes then was nothing compared to the look in her eyes now._

_“Nima, are you-”_

_“It has a name? How precious. I should hope it’s a useful name - what does NIMA stand for? Natural Investigation of Matter Allocation? Nurtured Individual Merit Aptitude? New-”_

_“It’s just her name. Now let her go, Gaster, please.”_

_“Nonsense! We are scientists, Sans. We cannot waste an opportunity like this. I bet Alphys will be delighted to see that your shared project worked out so well.”_

_“Leave Alphys out of this - she didn’t know.”_

* * *

Despite his curiosity and yearning to see the end of the memory, his old words sparked an even older memory - one he hadn’t even caught glimpses of until now.

* * *

    _“Why can’t Alphys do it?”_

_“Alphys is not a part of this. It was our experiment, Sans. Just ours. And it was such a success.”_

_“That wasn’t a success! I didn’t want to do that to them! They weren’t even hurting anyone!”_

_“Sans, sacrifices are often made in the name of discovery. This will help us immensely. Another subject always reveals new things in the tests.”_

_“But Alphys said-”_

_“Is this Alphys’ lab, Sans? Hm? I didn’t think so. I have heard her research proposals many times over, and while some hold merit, most are wastes of our time and resources. Now, go do what I asked.”_

_“But why can’t Alphys be a part of this?”_

_“She is too young for this sort of thing.”_

_“Alphys is older than I am!”_

_"She is not like you, Sans. You are special. You understand. Now, for the last time: go.”_

* * *

    _He returned, the objects hanging limply from his hand seeming to weigh more by the second. He didn’t want to look at them, for fear of the images rushing back. The images seemed not to care, and flashed through his mind anyway._

* * *

_A rustle within the forests of tall grass caught his attention. He almost wanted to turn away - go back and say he couldn’t find them - but Gaster wouldn’t be satisfied with that. He would come out and find them anyway. Sans had to get to them first. It would be the least painful, he figured, if he was the one who did it._

_He spotted them after two more minutes of looking. They were huddled on the ground, bent over a notebook and scribbling away. They were… small, he realized. He had grown so used to Nima and her height that he had forgotten how small humans could be - how young they could look. Taking a moment to steel himself for what he had to do, he carefully pulled their soul toward him, hoping to be able to sever the connection, like Gaster had said he would._

_Instead, the human sat up instantly at the tug of their soul, and whipped around to face him. Glasses perched on their nose went slightly askew, and were fogging up with the warm, humid Waterfall climate. They scooted back, scrambling to pick up their things and run, but the slippery ground betrayed them and sent them falling back down. Sans paid no mind to their frantic attempts at escape, continuing only to try and tug their soul free of its bond to them. He wondered, briefly, if Gaster was wrong about it. After all, it was just a trial, wasn’t it? More specifically, it was the first trial, so Gaster could only guess what the treatments would allow Sans to do._

_Apparently, Gaster was wrong. The human, now having halted its panicked frenzy, was pulling its soul back toward them, fighting against the gravitation of Sans’ magic. He pulled back, harder and harder, hoping the human would grow tired and let it snap to him like the end of a rubber band. Instead, they tried harder as well. The two struggled, locked in a stalemate over the violet heart. Sans wasn’t trying his hardest, though. He wondered if he really should - after all, he’d be a whole new brand of hypocrite if he protected Nima, but killed this one. Had this one even done anything? Gaster hadn’t given him any sort of formal briefing or report on the subject - only told Sans to go and get it._

To go and get it... _the thought echoed through Sans’ mind, and a new idea formed. He could just take the human in alive. He wouldn’t be responsible for killing them - maybe Gaster wouldn’t even kill it! Gaster was always talking about needing a different perspective on the subject, so maybe he wouldn’t even hurt the human! There was certainly a better chance of that than them trying to live on their own in the Underground, right?_

_And so he made up his mind. He tried to lose focus, to let go of the human’s soul and grab their entirety, but the energy felt wrong. The magic wasn’t stopping or weakening - it was growing stronger. He tried refocusing it, attempting to lift their notebook or move some blades of grass, but nothing worked. He grunted with the magic flowing out of him against his will, and he could see the human’s face scrunching with the same effort._

_And then a pulse, loud and powerful, to shatter the tranquility of the field._

_And then silence, and darkness._

_And then a scene unfolding before his eyes, horrifying in its image. The grass around them, flattened and shriveled; the human, lying motionless, red leaching from their cheeks and into the soft soil through their shredded body; their soul, pulsing rapidly in the air, hanging over the scene of destruction; and himself, knocked back, unharmed, but exhausted._

_It was exactly what he had not wanted. He had agreed only because Gaster had threatened to do it himself. And he had known that death by Gaster’s hand would be infinitely more agonizing than by his. Or, at least, he had thought he knew._

* * *

_“Eh, what’s this? Hold up… wahaha! Where’d you get this?”_

_“Just take it. Give it to Asgore or whatever. Get it away from me.”_

_“Alright, alright kid. Just let me get a jar or somethin’. I ain’t got your fancy magics. Hoo, hoo! Ol’ Fluffybuns will be mighty pleased! Where’s the body? The king gives ‘em proper burials - he’ll be wanting it.”_

_“He’ll get it.”_

* * *

_“What took you so long, Sans?”_

_“G, it was-”_

_“Gaster.”_

_“Gaster, it was terrible!”_

_“Did it attack you?”_

_“No.”_

_“Then what is the problem?”_

_“I killed it, Gaster!”_

_“That was your job, if I recall correctly.”_

_“No, no, you said to bring it in. I didn’t want to kill it! I thought a live subject could help!”_

_“An intriguing thought, but unimportant. You did well, Sans.”_

_“But... I hurt it.”_

_“It was destined to end up hurt. Did your abilities work?”_

_“I couldn’t sever the connection. All my magic went out of my control. I couldn’t stop it, and everything just blew up in my face - literally!”_

_“Interesting. I’ll have you log your results in more depth later. For now, where is it?”_

_“It’s - it’s in there. That suitcase. I couldn’t… it’s destroyed, Gaster! I destroyed it!”_

_“Science makes something out of anything. Go put it in the examination room.”_

_“No! You do it! You wanted the stupid thing! You made me kill it!”_

_“Sans, do as you’re told. You’re far too old to be throwing tantrums.”_

_“Why can’t Alphys do it?”_

* * *

“I -” he gasped out. “What - did you know? Is that why…”

    “Sans? Did I know what?”

    “I killed a kid - another human that fell down. I… I destroyed them.”

    “Oh. Yeah, Sans, I knew. It’s… well, it’s not okay, but you didn’t mean to, so… it _is_ okay? Maybe?”

    “How can you even look at me? Aren’t you scared of me? I killed a human; how did you know I wouldn’t kill you, too?”

    “Because you didn’t kill that human. I mean, you did, physically, but Gaster _made_ you kill it. He deceived you. He turned you into an experiment. Aren’t you angry?”

    He was. He was angry, but more with himself than Gaster. “I still carried out the deed.”

    “No, you didn’t. Gaster did. And you know what? If you’re going to make things right, you have to find him, and make _him_ make things right, yeah? So what are we doing standing around here? C’mon! You’ve got to find Gaster, don’t you?”

    He knew what she was doing. She was distracting him - refocusing him on a new task to keep them moving. But, even if he was aware of her plan, did that mean she wasn’t right? Did that mean he shouldn’t fall for it? He figured the answer was no. After all, the original plan was to get to Alphys’ lab, and their current progression wasn’t exactly getting them any closer - to Alphys’ lab or anywhere else. And if they ran into Gaster, well, Sans could think of that as a bonus.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you have to actually continue talking to me this time. No more cutting off your stories.”

“I was hardly the person to cut them off in the first place, Mister Memory.”

Sans moved to retort, but she was quicker.

“Kidding, kidding… mostly. Whatever, fine. Just start walking.”

So they did. And as they did, she kept talking. She told him about her decision as he and Gaster stood there - how she knew she had ruined everything and how she had to finish what she had gone there to do. How she hadn’t actually known what she had planned to do until that moment, and how she did it.

It shouldn’t have been possible, technically speaking, for her to break free of Gaster’s magic hold, but Sans apparently proved as enough of a distraction. According to her story, her initial plan had been to run, taking Sans with her, but that backfired the second she stepped out of the magic restraints, as Gaster immediately noticed.

What surprised Sans the most was not her amazingly stupid plan, but that, in the end, it was really all a big accident, or, at the very least, she could believably claim it was one. She hadn’t meant to go over the edge, and she certainly hadn’t wanted to, but Sans still had some doubts on whether or not she meant to take Gaster with her.

It had been a short struggle. She had said, not quietly, but not loudly, “I’m sorry”. She had tried to run to Sans, Gaster snatched her back, and the sudden offset of balance had sent her tumbling back over the edge, but not before her hand snagged Gaster’s leg.

Neither of them really knew the specifics of what happened directly after they fell. Sans had absolutely no memory of it, and Nima said it was a volatile part of the timeline, and was virtually inaccessible to her. From what she could tell, though, Sans ran. Or, rather, teleported, in her words. The next time she caught a glimpse of him, he was dashing out of the Core, and the time after that, he was in a new timeline.

It was the old timeline - Nima’s timeline - that most intrigued him. It wasn’t, as she had described the other timelines, a trunk for other timelines to branch off of. It wasn’t, as she had described the other timelines, a place anyone could jump back to and reset. And it wasn’t, as she had described the other timelines, a place where another version of him existed. In her theory, it was all about proximity to the Core. Sans was the closest, since Gaster hadn’t allowed anyone else to work in the Core besides himself; Asgore and Alphys were about the same distance away, and were supposedly the next closest. When Sans mentioned that there was an apartment complex full of monsters between the core and the lab, she shushed him and, irritated, reminded him that it was just a theory - what was she, an expert?

She had slapped him again when he said, “Well, you should be.”

He had considered slapping her back, but figured the sting from hitting hardened bone was enough to make her pay.

Just then, his cell phone rang. He had almost forgotten that he even had it sitting in his pocket, but there it was, the screen all lit up with a contact name.

**_ALPHYS_ **

“Oh, shit,” he said, staring at the phone. “I was supposed to call her to give her the all-clear.”

Nima looked at him warily. “And I’m guessing no news in this case is bad news?”

“Yeah, if I didn’t call, it meant…”

“Well, answer it!”

He obeyed, despite nearly dropping the phone at her sudden and shrill outburst.

“Alphys,” he said immediately, ready to explain, but his sentence was cut short by her own shrill outburst.

“Sans the Skeleton! Do you know how long it’s been? You were supposed to call! Do you know what we’ve all been thinking? Do you realize how afraid we all were?”

He stayed silent partially because he expected the lecture was not over, but mostly because it might have been the first sentence - or sentences - he had heard her say without a single stutter in a long time.

“W- we were worried… about y- you.”

There it was - the Alphys he knew.

“Look, Alphys, I’m sorry. Things got… crazy, and, well, is your lab still good to go? The kid didn’t mess it up or anything, right?”

“Um, n- no? All the, um, equipment st- still works, i- if that’s what you mean.”

“Good. We’ve got some things to test. We’re almost there - see you soon.”

“W- wait! We? Who- who’s ‘we’?”

Sans paused, unsure of whether she would just worry more if he told her over the phone, or if showing up on her doorstep with a murderer and an unfamiliar human would turn out worse.

“Me and Asgore,” he lied.

“Sans, I j- just saw Asgore on one of my- my cameras. He’s in Hotland. Wh- where are you?”

“Sorry, Alph, tell you when I get there,” he said, hanging up and turning to Nima.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“I forgot that she has cameras everywhere. As soon as we step into the first monitored zone in Hotland, she’ll see you, if she doesn’t see Frisk with Asgore first. I’m going to get so many calls about this.”

“Well, there’s not exactly another way to the lab, is there? I mean, if she’s going to monitor anything, might as well monitor everything, right?”

Sans considered for a moment, weighing the possible consequences against the constant annoyance of Alphys’ anger and lectures. After not-so-careful consideration, he made up his mind.

“How do you feel about taking a shortcut?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry for another long wait between chapters, and that this one is a little bit shorter than the others. I promise school is almost out and this story won't drag on for too much longer ^.^ I'm estimating this story will be 15 chapters, but, hey, what do I know?  
> Anyway, thanks again for reading, and of course I love you all ^.^  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


	14. "Wing Ding"

“What the hell, Sans?”

“What?”

“You don’t just ask someone if they’re okay with something and then do it before they respond!”

“I figured-”

“Yeah, you’ve figured a lot of things, but are you usually right?”

“... no.”

Nima didn’t respond this time, opting to resume her glaring from earlier.

“What?”

Staring.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

More staring.

“Sorry?”

She rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Whatever, Sans. I would have said yes, anyways; I just wasn’t ready for,” she gestured lazily in the air - Sans wasn’t exactly sure what the gesture was supposed to represent, if anything - and made a confused face, “that.”

“Fair enough.”

She looked up, fully taking in her surroundings for the first time. “Wow… it looks so… similar. I don’t know why I expected it to look so different. I just…”

Sans eyed her carefully, weighing the possible offense she might take if he asked against the offense she might take if he didn’t. “Are you okay? To be here, I mean.”   


“What? Oh, yeah, no, I’m fine. It’s just kind of surreal, I guess. I spent the - well, I wouldn’t call them the worst, even though, objectively, they probably were, and they certainly weren’t the best… I don’t know. The weirdest months of my life? Yeah, that sounds about right. I spent some of the weirdest months of my life here, and I guess it just looks so much more normal than I expected, even if I already knew what it looks like. I know that doesn’t really make much sense, but, y’know.”

“Hey, you’re talking to an expert on familiar things looking unfamiliar.”

“Right, um, should we go in? You said Alphys had cameras everywhere, so I’m guessing here is no exception, yeah?”

“Yeah, there’s cameras here, and that’s why we don’t need to go inside just yet,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the lab.

Right on cue, the doors opened, and a wary Alphys peeked out, scanning the area for a second, before she strode up to them at a speed that surprised even Sans.

“Wh- what are you doing, Sans? Who i- is this?”

Sans, through his time at Gaster’s side with Alphys, had learned that her stuttering was basically a code to her feelings. The less she stuttered, the more intense the feelings were, so he could easily guess that she was not as angry as she was before, but still angry enough to warrant some wariness around what he should say next.

Fortunately for him, what was to be said next was a decision taken from him by Nima, who extended her hand and said, “Nima, human, nice to meet you.”

Alphys took her hand gingerly and shook it once before retracting her hand to its place in front of her, fiddling with the other hand. “A- Alphys, Royal Sc- scientist.”

“We need your help, Alph,” Sans interjected. “There’s some crazy shit going on with time, and there’s no one who knows more than you.”

“Wouldn’t Gast- ow!” Nima’s remark was cut off by Sans’ slippered foot crashing down on top of hers. “What’d you do that for?”

“Alphys has studied anything and everything - she loves the unknown. There’s no one better than her.” In a hushed hiss, he added, “Got it?”

“Yeah, geez, I got it,” Nima replied, now balancing on one foot in order to rub the other. “No need to be so violent.”

“W-well I do-on’t know that I- that I’m the b-best. I- well, I sup-pose so.”

“You’re all we’ve got.”

“But there’s-” Nima started, cutting herself off before she could finish the statement. “Nevermind.”

“Yup, that’s right. There’s no one else to worry about, so we can-”

“To w-worry about? What- what’s that supposed t-to mean Sans?”

“It’s nothing. I was just saying that you-”

“Sans, wouldn’t it be better to tell her?”

“No, we don’t-”

“T-tell me what?”

“No, no. We don’t need to - no, it’ll just - that’s just more problems to-”   


“What are you k-keeping from me? Do- do you not tr-trust me? Why would you-”

“For the love of God, Sans, just tell her, or I will!”

“Children.”

The three bickering heads swiveled around to meet the new voice on the scene, upon which one grew panicked, one grew confused, and one grew exasperated.

“There is no need to argue. Sans, what did I always tell you about lying to your friends? It’ll only cause you trouble.”

“Wh-who are you?”

“I wasn’t lying - no, I was, but she doesn’t need to know you - I was just protecting her.”

Expressions in general were difficult to make out on Gaster’s face, and the shift that occurred only added to this difficulty, so it wasn’t until Gaster spoke that Sans could detect any hint of his thoughts.

“Hm. You sound just like her, you know.”

He was taken aback by the gentleness in Gaster’s voice; until now, the monster had only been, well, a monster - in the humans’ sense of the word - but now? Now he could sense something further, something deeper than the facade.  And he wasn’t sure he could hate it as he had hated Gaster before.

“Who?”

“My cousin - your mother. Back when we were young, whenever we got caught lying or in trouble, she’d claim it was to protect someone - sometimes someone who didn’t even exist. She’d do anything to try and make things less complicated for others. It wasn’t even self-preservation… I never understood it, but it was just part of her, I suppose.”

Sans paused before speaking. It was a brief pause, but so much happened within it.  _ He sounds… sad,  _ Sans realized.  _ When has he ever showed anything like regard for other people? _

* * *

_ “Sans, come out from there! It’s just your Uncle Wing Ding - he’s not going to hurt you, silly!” _

_ “Uncu?” _

_ “Mm-hm. He  _ finally  _ came to visit - to meet you!” _

_ “Come on now Xixi, don’t say it like that. It’s not like it’s been that long.” _

_ “It’s been years! Sans doesn’t even remember you - I think it’s been pretty long.” _

_ “Kids don’t remember much anyways.” _

_ “Not Sans - he’s special. He’s already learned so much - he’s very smart. Come on out, Sans. Wing Ding’s a scientist; he’d love to hear about all the cool stuff you know.” _

_ “Ah, I, um, really can’t stay for long-” _

_ “Years, Wing Ding.” _

_ “Ah, yes, okay. I’ll just… stay, then.” _

_ “Great! I don’t know why Sans is being so difficult - I’ll go get him.” _

_ “What about… the other one?” _

_ “Hm? Oh! Honestly Wing Ding, do you even read the letters I send you? The other one is still taking their sweet time - though I do kind of wish they’d chosen Solas instead; having them around this long is making my soul is soo tired!” _

_ “How tired? Have you been checked? Does Solas know?” _

_ “Don’t be a worrywart, Wing Ding! I’m fine - we’re all fine. These things just take longer sometimes. Sans was ready quite quickly, so I should have expected the second to take more time. Ah, here we are. C’mere, Sans. Don’t make me pick you up.” _

_ “Nono!” _

_ “Yeah, you don’t want to be picked up, huh? Well, come here, then! Wing Ding’s been waiting  _ years _ to meet you.” _

_ “Xixi.” _

_ “Sorry, Dingy.” _

_ “Ah, don’t call me that ridiculous nickname, Xixi.” _

_ “What, do you prefer Wingy?” _

_ “Sometimes it amazes me that you’re the older of us.” _

_ “Oh, fine, Wing Ding. When did you become so not-fun? Isn’t that right, Sans? Isn’t Uncle WingDing being a spoilsport?” _

_ “Uncu Wig Dig.” _

_ “Yes, that’s right! Look how smart he is,  _ Wig Dig. _ ” _

_ “Xixi.”  _

_ “If I only had a gold piece for every time you said my name in a condescending tone.” _

_ “Xi- I see your point.” _

_ “Wing Ding, you act as though I’m torturing you! I’m just trying to get you to interact with your family! You stay holed up in that lab all hours of the day - when was the last time you went home?” _

_ “I have a bed at-” _

_ “That’s not your home, is it? Don’t tell me you sold the apartment.” _

_ “Not yet.” _

_ “Wing Ding! You can’t make your life all about the science! You have to make it about you!” _

* * *

“Uh- um, is anyo-one going t-to tell me wha-at’s g-going on?”

“You don’t remember? This doesn’t trigger any memory in the back of your mind, Alphys? Nothing at all?” Sans questioned, grasping the scientist by the shoulders.

“O-oh, I don’t know? I- I don’t think s-so.”

“Just me then,” Sans muttered. “Um, this is W.D. Gaster. The short answer is: he’s my uncle. The long answer, um, well-”

“It’s a long story,” Nima interrupted. “Why don’t we go inside, though? Alphys, you can lead the way.”

The two began to walk toward the lab, but Sans and Gaster stayed put.

“So, you’re not my uncle, then? We’re just cousins?”

“Ah, yes. Technically. I grew up in your mother’s family, so she was like a sister to me. We find - found - it simpler to say it this way.”

“But... you two were fighting.”

“Hm?”

“In my memory. You came to visit, and she kept getting angry with you.”

“You remember that? Perhaps she was right, you are something.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question. Clarity, Sans, is the most important thing if-”

“If I want to be a scientist, yeah. Why was she angry with you?”

“Xixi was never angry with me. When you love someone, you don’t get angry with them, you get frustrated.”

“I’m not six years old. I know that’s not true. Quit talking to me like I’m a child.”

“Oh, Sans, don’t ruin it. Were we not just ‘having a moment’?”

“Answer. The damn. Question.”

“Temper, Sans.”

“You aren’t my father!”

“I think that has been made quite clear.”

“Why was she angry with you?”

“I occasionally failed to keep in contact because of work.”

“Occasionally?”

“Now you truly sound like her. I suppose that’s fair enough. I was quite absorbed in the work, and sometimes she would have to drag me away from it so I could ‘live a full life’, in her words. Perhaps she was right, as well. I spent weeks in that lab if she didn’t force me out - it was her way of caring.”

“She cared so much about you living a real life, and you turned your back on that after she died?” Sans could hear the angry note in his voice escalating out of control, and fought to bring it back to a level at which Gaster might take him seriously.

“I-”

“Did you care that little?!”

“What?”

“You only took me and Paps in because she wanted you to! She wanted you to learn how to interact with people. She wanted you to be responsible for someone other than yourself. She thought we could help you, but instead you dragged me into it. She mentioned something about an apartment - was that where Paps and I lived? Did you ever even go back there like she wanted? Did you ever once think about what she would have wanted?”

“You don’t get to talk about that!” Gaster snapped. “ _ You  _ don’t get to talk about her like you knew her - you were _ nine. _ I don’t care how good your memory is - you  _ don’t _ get to pretend you know what she wanted.”

Sans took a small step back, physically startled by Gaster’s sudden outburst. He had heard him angry before, but not like this. This wasn’t frustration - it wasn’t even anger. It was exactly what he had felt when he yelled at Gaster back in the corridor - it was seething hatred. 

Sans, however, did not back down entirely. Chin raised, he spat back, “And what gives you the right?”

It was at this point that Nima and Alphys had noticed the commotion and lack of following on the bickering monsters’ parts.

“That’s it!” Nima’s voice rang through the cavern. “I am sick and tired of you two fighting, and you’ve only been around each other for a total of like ten minutes! Both of you. Inside. Now!”

“O-ooh, um, maybe we should j-just give them a-a little t-time?”

“We haven’t got time, and they do this every time they get within each other’s sight! Sans, come on. You know we need both of you to figure this out, and we can’t figure it out if all you do is fight. Get in there before… before… oh heck - I don’t even know! Just get in there before I figure out what I’ll do if you don’t!”

The two monsters shared a momentary glance, both seeming to attempt an evaluation of the threat. A few more seconds of silence were followed by a footstep, crunching against the packed earth. Sans’ gaze lingered on his slipper for a moment more before he took another step. “Fine,” he said, shifting his gaze to where Nima and Alphys stood. “But only because we have a bigger problem to solve.”

Gaster hummed as he, too, began toward the lab. “Finally, you’ve managed to put some sense in that skull of his.”

“You’re no coin purse either, mister.”

Three faces turned to regard Nima with confusion, and Sans asked, “What?” 

“A coin purse, like he doesn’t have cents… like sense… it’s… it’s a pun on… nevermind. Oh, I miss human puns…”

Sans shrugged at the still-confused Alphys. “C’mon. We’d better get to work.”

As the group walked into the lab, Alphys asked, “Uh-um, is anyone go-oing to tell me wh-what exactly we’re working o-on?”

No one seemed to hear, so Alphys punctuated the doors’ shutting woosh with a sigh.

When Sans stepped into the lab, it felt like everything was rushing back at once. It was strange, for sure, to have a place feel so different than every other time he had been there. It wasn’t like he hadn’t come to the lab at all after moving to Snowdin, especially after he managed to somewhat befriend Alphys again. But never before had the lab seemed so empty. 

As anyone else - with, perhaps the exception of Gaster - looked at the lab, they might have been appalled by the state of the place. With stacks of paper strewn about the desk and floor, a garbage can overflowing with empty packets of noodles, and everything else in a general state of disarray - presumably from the panic at impending doom - the lab hardly looked like a place of professional work. But the lab that Sans now remembered was far worse. Forget papers and packaging - Gaster’s lab had been a mess of several simultaneous experiments, stored wherever there was space. Compared to that, Alphy’s lab looked like their house after Papyrus would go on a cleaning spree.

Gaster spoke again as he proceeded across the lab. “Much different from when it was mine, isn’t it, Sans?”

Sans looked up, surprised. “How did you know I was thinking about that?”

Turning back toward Sans, Gaster set down a flask in response to some hand-flailing and sputtering by Alphys. “Sans, no matter how much you hate me, we are more alike than you know. Perhaps more alike than you would care for, even, but that’s not something we can change.”

Sans bit back the urge to scoff, though not before darting his eyes to the right and catching a glimpse of Nima’s death glare. “Yeah, sure,” he opted to say instead.

“S-so… uhm… what are we doing h- here a-anyways?”

“Right,” Sans said, snapping back to reality. “We might have more luck when Frisk and the others get here, but-

“F- frisk? Who’s that?”

Sans froze, realizing the weight of the situation. This didn’t start as a nice and happy timeline. They weren’t friends - Alphys never helped Frisk. _ Frisk killed Undyne - killed Papyrus - for surface’s sake, they killed everyone.  _ “They’re, um, the human.” 

A look of clarity fell across Alphys’ face, but her next words confirmed Sans’ fears. “I thought you said your name was Nima,” she said, turning toward the girl. Sans groaned inwardly at the lack of stuttering. He had to silently remind himself not to be too mad at her.  _ Of course she’d be angry and want to deny what’s happening. _

Nima looked back with a pained expression on her face - a mixture of sympathy and discomfort. “Yeah, um, it is.”

“Then Frisk…”

Sans cringed slightly before bursting out, “Killed Paps and Undyne and nearly everyone else in the Underground, yeah.”

Seeing a monster pale was a rare occurrence, as their physical appearance wasn’t necessarily tied so strongly to their nerves and emotions, so he sighed when he saw Alphys’ face fill with terror and drain of color.

“Y- you’re bringing them  _ here?  _ They’re coming  _ here?  _ Sans, are you insane?”

“At this point, probably.” As he saw Alphys open her mouth to speak again, he continued. “Look, it’s a complicated story, and you’re probably going to have to hear it to help us, but it’s okay. They aren’t like that anymore.”

“There’s footage of them killing on my cameras from an hour ago! Do you expect me to believe they’ve turned good in that time?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’ve seen it. It’s like a switch, Alph, really. It’s not easy, but they can almost always do it.”

“Do  _ what?” _

“Like we said before, Alphys, it’s quite the long story,” Nima interjected. “But… it’s going to get a whole lot easier if we just tell you now.”

Sans groaned, not looking forward to having to explain the situation all over again, but complied anyways.

“... So basically the kid is good now, Gaster and Nima come from an inaccessible timeline, and apparently time is falling apart or something.”

“The divisions between timelines are breaking down,” Nima corrected. “Images and memories from other timelines are seeping into this one. You probably don’t have many here, because it seems to travel somewhat slowly, and I don’t think it’s reached here yet.”

Alphys didn’t reply to Nima’s clarifications, instead keeping her eyes trained on Sans. “You knew?” she finally asked.

“Knew what?”

“You s- said that Frisk has done this hun- hundreds of times. S- so that means you- you knew Undyne w- would.”

Sans grimaced again. “Um, yes.”

“Why didn’t you stop it?! Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Hey,” Sans said, taking a step towards the yellow monster. “Why didn’t I stop Undyne from dying? I didn’t even stop Papyrus from dying! I stood by and watched over and over as they did whatever they wanted because it was my  _ job _ . I have done everything anyone has ever asked of me - you don’t get to lay more blame on me.”

Alphys backed down, clearly intimidated by Sans’ outburst. She took a few steps backward and stumbled into Nima, who had, at some point, borrowed one of Alphys’ lab coats to wear. -

“Sorry about him,” Nima said, steadying the scientist. “He’s having a little trouble with this whole thing.”

Sans didn’t bother to justify her remark with a response, so he recaptured himself and continued with his explanation. “There’s also this flower.” Sans didn’t notice Alphys paling this time. “I still don’t know exactly how it fits into all of this, but apparently it was resetting before Frisk came along, and apparently it killed all the same monsters Frisk did and I killed it. I guess it sort of started this whole thing - after Nima of course.”

“Thanks for the credit, Sans,” Nima said, her voice sickly sweet and mocking.

“O-oh, uhm, r-right. Th- the flower.”

Sans glanced at Alphys, surprised. “What do you know about the flower?”

“I- I kind of… uhm… created it?”

Gaster, who had been silently inspecting every inch of the lab and its experiments, turned toward Alphys. “You did?”

Sans, however, turned toward Nima, whose face went from surprised to sheepish in the span of a second. “Ah, did I, um, forget to mention that?”

“You knew?”

“Okay, yes, sort of… not really, Sans. It was kind of a guess. I didn’t really pay much attention to other parts of the timelines until the flower’s first reset - I just kind of watched how you were getting on without Gaster - so I never actually  _ saw _ Alphys create the flower, but I just assumed that she did after I looked at her experiments. I was new to the whole omniscient being thing, so because I only focused on one part of the timeline instead of expanding my vision, I couldn’t really see what was happening everywhere else. I’m sorry...”

Sans composed himself, and then responded. “No. No, you don't need to be sorry.”

“I don’t?”

The pure shock in her voice gave Sans a strange feeling. “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course you don’t.”

“But… you’ve been so… harsh since this all…”

Sans straightened up, catharsis overtaking him. “Yeah,” he said. “I, uh, I know. It’s… I’ve taken so much blame, so I just wanted to, y’know, push it onto someone else, I guess.”

“Okay, well, sure. I mean, it’s not exactly… immediately forgivable, but, it’s progress, I suppose. Does this mean you’ll stop butting heads with Gaster, now?”

Sans paused, briefly glancing away. 

“Sans,” Gaster’s voice cut in, pulling the conversation from between the two. “As fascinating as your exchange is, perhaps a more scientific approach could benefit the issue.”

“Gaster,” Sans retorted, a sarcastic bite cutting into his voice. “As fascinating as your science is, perhaps you could keep your opinions to yourself.”

Nima’s familiar sigh was now joined by Alphys’. “They’ve been like this the whole time?” Alphys asked. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replied. “It seems to be mostly Sans - he’s not exactly the best at maturity.”

“Clearly,” Alphys commented, eyeing the again bickering pair. 

“You know, it’s unfortunate,” Nima said, her voice becoming gentler. “They’re  _ family _ . I know blood doesn’t always mean they’re someone you should tolerate, but Gaster isn’t… so bad.”

“I- I thought…” Alphys interjected, surprise filling her voice.

“Well, yeah, Gaster isn’t a great person - monster, whatever - he’s pretty screwed up, but so is Sans. You’d just think they’d get along a little… that maybe they’d understand each other. They were pretty much all the other had.”

She, wrapped up in her thoughts, hadn’t noticed the two monsters break from their latest quarrel to listen to her. 

Sans voice broke into her thoughts first. “That isn’t true. I had Papyrus - I only needed Papyrus.”

Hardly recognizing the situation, Nima replied, her focus diminished from its usual intensity. “Then why was it so different for you and Papyrus after Gaster and I disappeared?”

Sans didn’t recognize the distant nuance to her voice, and replied angrily, “I didn’t have a job! We didn’t have a place to live - that’s pretty different.”

Snapping back to reality, Nima sat up, her face taking on an innocent look. “It wasn’t about that.”

“What do you know?”

“Everything.”

“You only saw everything - you can’t know what we were feeling.”

“That’s true, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take a guess.”

“A guess? You’re basing all this on a guess?”

“Technically, yes, but it’s an educated guess - a hypothesis, you could say.”

“You can test a hypothesis. How do you plan to test this?”

“Oh look who’s Mr. Scientist now,” Nima teased.

“Don’t.”

“Sans.” She returned to her normal tone, leaning forward slightly. “I know you like to be right, but think about it. You and Gaster are family - I know that doesn’t mean much, but it doesn’t mean nothing. I had a brother back up on the surface, and I thought I  _ hated _ him. He made my life miserable and I thought I’d be so happy when he moved out. But when he did, it felt like something was missing. His teasing was such an integral part of my life and I realized that maybe it was an important one, and that maybe deep down I really did enjoy it. Family isn’t about people you necessarily like - it’s people you need.”

“Teasing isn’t the same as performing dangerous experiments.”

“Ah” Gaster interjected, rejoining the conversation. “In reality, it was only one experiment.”

“And it  _ broke me!  _ How is that okay?” 

“No one is saying it’s okay, Sans, but I’m just saying that maybe the good of having Gaster around could outweigh the bad.”

“What good? Having him around literally killed you!”

“Do I look dead to you?”

“You know what I meant! He may have done good things for monsters, but never for his own family! He-”

Sans’ tirade was cut short by a wisp of jet black snaking its way around his face. His pupils shrinking to pinpricks, he tried to turn around to look at Gaster.

“Enough, Sans. I cannot imagine anyone in this room is eager to hear more of your accusations and complaints, no matter how valid they may or may not be. You brought us here to find a solution, so let us find one.”

“Uh, yeah,” Nima agreed, a new note of worry in her voice. “We should really hurry.” Her eyes were wide and her body trembling slightly, and Alphys reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. 

“A- are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just, as a part of being outside time, every timeline that exists would play across my vision at once while I was in the void. I called it - ah - multi-vision, and it seems to grow worse the closer I am to the void. It was fine, but now it’s, uh, starting again. I think that means the void is spreading and coming closer.”

“C-coming closer?”

With Gaster’s restraint slackening a little, Sans looked at Nima, shocked, and said, “You mean the whole time we were in the corridor? The whole time we were with Asgore?”

“Yeah, sort of. I was a lot more used to it, having just come out of the void, so it wasn’t as-” she paused to shake her head and grunt softly, “as jarring. I’m fine, really, but we need to hurry.”

As if on a cue with Nima’s words, a loud banging sound rumbled from the lab doors. Hurrying over to the panel on the wall, Alphys unlocked them, and they opened to a frantic Frisk and Asgore (and the flower, of course, but Sans hoped that if he didn’t acknowledge it, he wouldn’t have to deal with it).  

“O- oh, hello,” Alphys stammered out, but her greetings went unanswered, as Asgore’s eyes locked onto Sans.

“Care to explain the expanding darkness we just had to outrun?”

Alphys ushered them inside, locking the doors again behind them. 

_ That’s not going to stop anything,  _ Sans thought, but decided not to tell Alphys. If she at least felt secure, she would probably be able to work better. “That’s, uh,” he glanced at Nima, “a long story?”

This time, Asgore wasn’t so forgiving, “Shorten it,” the king said, his voice deepening to a growl. Before the last syllable was all the way out of his mouth, however, he looked up and seemed, for the first time, to notice the others standing in the room - particularly one tall, dark figure. He blinked several times, and then a look of recognition seemed to wash over his features.

“Wing Ding?”

Gaster, in return, flinched at the mention of his first name, but regained his overall composure - albeit a possibly stiffer one - quickly. “Asgore,” he said, as though it were more a statement or fact than a greeting.

Still absorbed in the presence of the monster, Asgore said quietly, “Perhaps this story is quite long after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha... yikes, it's been a while. I swear to god I am going to finish this... I'm just not sure when. My original goal was to finish before NaNoWriMo, but that didn't happen, so I'm thinking I'll get to it over winter break. We're nearing the end! There's only one or two more chapters to go, and the ending has a special surprise in store for you...  
> *  
> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why! Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> If there is anything you noticed in this work - no matter how small (typo/misspelling, continuity error, something that doesn't align with stated canon, etc) - please feel free to let me know! I want to make this work the best I can, and that can be accomplished with the help of you guys!


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